I’ve decided to make this gift of freedom count. I did not to shave for 12 days. It was my longest period of being unshaven. I think my previous record was around five days.

I took a picture of myself each day to track the beard’s progress.

Click here to see a slideshow of the daily growth!

Anita “Dot” Normanly:

When I heard you were celebrating your 40th birthday, I couldn’t believe it. You don’t look a day over 37! You’ve really tapped into the fountain of youth, haven’t you?

Oh, Tater, our friendship means so much to me. Who else shares my passion for horseback riding, traditional hymns, hot yoga and raising show ferrets? No one, that’s who. You’re one-of-a-kind.

Of course, it goes without saying, there is no one else I want to celebrate Hanukkah with.

Cheers to your dazzling milestone! You are a true American Bad Ass and the gene pool hit it’s zenith on the day you were born.

I remember the time Brian and I were golfing on the back 9 at Augusta, and he told me the story about the time he shot the panther in his grandmother’s chicken coop with the homemade arrow from his grandfather’s weapon chest.

I always knew that when they called on me, as his business partner of 30 years, that this would be the story to tell. His triumphant rise from backwoods North Carolina to a titan of the radio and television industry to one of the greatest private pilots to grace the sky, is foreshadowed in this epic encounter. Using his spartan surroundings to conquer nature, and a threat against his family, channeled into boardroom frenzy and a keen market interest.

To Brian…the captain!

I’ll never forget the conversation we had on the way back from Wal-Mart about VHS tapes, which led to childhood memories, which led to two dudes almost crying simultaneously.

Oh man… when I found out you were a crip…whew.  What a day.

It was the fall of 2006, and I remember it clear as day. Brian approached me with a pitch for a new restaurant in Fuquay, and I remember being knocked off my feet with its genius. It seemed as though all the kinks were already worked out and Brian was ready to get the show on the road.

The menu, he said, would include menu items from all the other fast food chains in town, making our place a one-stop shop that everyone could enjoy. Best of all, Brian had already found a fantastic location in the heart of Fuquay, the old McDonald’s location right next to the local landmark Guardian Angel Thrift Store. Realizing the immense gratification of such a business venture, I immediately transferred $3.5 million into Mr. Shrader’s account.

Three months later, my heart was still full of hope in Brian’s vision, but I began to question why no work had been started on the chosen location. When I went to his house to inquire how soon it would be before I could sit down and enjoy a Taco Bell taco and Zaxby’s chicken strips in the same building, I was in shock when he was no where to be found. All his possessions were there, but no Brian.  It seemed as though he had just disappeared.

I am sure you can all imagine my shock the next day when three federal agents arrived at my front door with handcuffs. There seemed as though there was what only could be described as a simple mix-up, and I found myself being questioned for my part in crimes which included the funding of foreign nationals, the funding of foreign drug cartels and the funding of some other stuff I don’t even understand. It was not long after that I learned that Brian too was being held on the very same charges.

Ha. This is really laughable now that I am sitting writing to you all from within my 5×8 cell here at Atlanta Federal Penitentiary. How a jury of my peers could not see how such a mix-up could happen, I am not too sure, but I am sure it will all work out. The last I saw of Brian, at the trial, he assured me there was a simple mix-up in the purchase of some new stoves and deep fryers and this would all be worked out in the appeal. I have faith in Mr. Shrader, the American hero who only wanted to open a new business in the face of oppression, and I still look forward to the day that I can enjoy Dairy Queen chili cheese hot dogs with a nice hot McFish sandwich — both from the same kitchen.

I gave my two-week notice on Facebook today — I’m hereby quitting. Two weeks to collect anyone’s e-mail or phone number I don’t already have, and I’m deactivating.

I’m tired of all the crowing, braying, posturing, fishing for compliments and “liking.” Facebook is the greatest ego-pump ever created. The biggest egos can now be inflated from 0 to 3,000 psi in one status update and a cascade of sycophantic “likes.” I don’t care what anybody “likes” and they shouldn’t care what I like.

And it’s spreading. Facebook’s founder wants “liking” things to be part of the basic structure of the Web. Of course, Facebook intends to collect all these things you like, match similar likes with your friends and bombard you both with targeted advertising.

So, they’ve found a way to turn us into secret salesmen. What progress! It’s like being turned into a multi-level marketer without even going to the hotel ballroom and getting the free trip just for listening to the pitch.

A brilliant business? Yes.

As Facebook described it’s “Instant Personalization” setting, I “opted in by default.” Now, I’m opting out completely.

I like this.