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I absolutely love telling ghost stories (which is a major reason for my “Come, children, come gather around the fire…” intro to many of my Answers), so I’ll lay out a few of my favorites here for you over the next few days.The Old Simpson House(this is a really good icebreaker for when you have a bunch of kids, particularly young ones. It works best if you have fun with the sound effects. And yes, I did steal it from Happy Days)When I was a kid, everybody in the neighborhood knew that the Old Simpson house was haunted. Well, we didn’t KNOW it was, we’d just assumed it. It was abandoned, had been for years, as long as anybody could remember. The yard was barren; no vegetation would grow there, and it was surrounded entirely by an old, wood picket fence, chest high to us kids, too high to hop over, but low enough to easily see the house from the street. Us kids would play games where we’d hop over the fence and see who could come closest to touching the house before running in terror; nobody had ever actually made it to touching the wood siding.The Old Simpson House was on my way home from school, so every day I had to pass that ghastly house, always trying to avoid looking at it for fear of what I’d see. When I’d walk past the gate, I’d always step a little farther out from the fence, scared of the day that the gate would be jerked open and me through it, never to be seen again.But one day, as I was walking home, I saw something different: the gate was open.I froze in front of that gate, staring at the house, feeling chills down my spine when I heard the voice call out. A shrill, high-pitched voice, coming from the house.(do your best, high-pitched, terrifying voice)“If this log rolls over we’ll drown, we’ll drown!”I stood and stared. A part of me had no intention of moving from that spot…but, somewhere deep inside, I felt courage. There was somebody in that house who needed help, and there was nobody else around, just me.My legs shook as I stepped into the yard; I’d never been the brave one to jump the fence before, so this was more than I’d ever done.With each step along the weathered sidewalk, I found myself growing ever more brave, but when I hit the front porch, I froze. What if I had imagined it? What if the voice came from somewhere else?As if on cue, it came again: “If this log rolls over we’ll drown, we’ll drown!”It had definitely come from inside the house. Slowly, I placed one foot onto the ancient wood of the front porch, farther than any boy in the neighborhood had ever done, more than any human being in at least 50 years.(make a squeaking sound, like a nail being pulled from an old board)Eeeeeee!Then the next.Eeeeeee!And approached the front door. I thought to myself, “There’s no way this door’s going to be unlocked, it just can’t be.” I reached out a hand, gripped the knob, and turned.Click!And I pulled.(be imaginative)Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaak!Inside, the house was lit only by the sunlight that filtered through dust-covered windows. The floor was covered in years of dust, completely undisturbed, not even mouse tracks visible. There was still furniture throughout the interior, all covered in dust-layered white sheets.Spider webs clustered along the ceiling.I waited. I’m not sure what I waited for, but I finally moved when I heard it again:“If this log rolls over we’ll drown, we’ll drown!”Now, I had a direction: a lone staircase that snaked upstairs. I stepped into the house, my feet clearly being the first to breach that doorway in decades, and I made my way to the steps, then began climbing.Eeeeeee! Eeeeeee! Eeeeeee! Eeeeeee! Eeeeeee! Eeeeeee!At the top of the stairs was a long hallway, lined with doors, all open with the exception of the last door, on the left. “If this log rolls over we’ll drown, we’ll drown!”I cautiously walked down the hall, every nerve in my body crying out to leave now, but knowing I’d passed the point of no return. I had to find the source of this terrifying cry.I turned the knob, part of me praying that it wouldn’t open, but sure enough Click! it did. Eeeeeee!Inside was more furniture, clearly a bedroom, covered in sheets and dust. The floor was littered with cobwebs and more undisturbed dust. The only other thing of interest in the room was another door.“If this log rolls over we’ll drown, we’ll drown!”I moved to this door, as fast as my shaking legs and pounding heart could allow, grasped the knob Click! and pulled Eeeeeee!Inside was a bathroom. And I could see, in the toilet, a small turd. And on that turd were two ants. And one ant shouted to the other, (normal, shouting voice) “If this log rolls over, we’ll drown, we’ll drown!”The Skull-Shaped RockThis one works best when you sell it…adapt it for your own needs to make sure it fits your background.Now, this one’s not a story, this really happened to me when I was a kid.We originally lived in a small house on the outskirts of Chicago, but a family of 6 in a 3 bedroom just wasn’t working anymore, so my parents found a new house in the suburbs of Chicago, so far out that they actually cleared some forest for the homes.The move in day was awesome. Each of us kids had our own bedrooms on the second floor, we had a basement, and our backyard butted up against the forest. It didn’t take long for us all to get our rooms setup the way we wanted and get settled in.After the first week, we were pretty well settled in and my Dad took us kids out into the woods for an “adventure hike.” We found, to our surprise, that there was a small creek that flowed through the woods, about 1/2 mile from our house. We spent a considerable amount of time down there, exploring, gathering leaves and pine cones and other things to bring back to show Mom.One of the items that Dad found was a rock that was…odd. “What’s that?” my Mom asked, after we were done showing her all our “finds,” looking at what Dad had.“Oh, just a rock I found, really cool, right?” We hadn’t seen it when he found it, so we all gathered around and looked. In his hand was a rock, about the size of a softball, with three shallow indentations, a crack beneath those, and a narrowing of the rock along the crack, making it look like…“Is that a skull?” my oldest brother shouted. “Coooool!”“No, it’s not a skull,” Dad said, taking it back, “It’s just a rock that looks like a skull, but it’s pretty cool.” He set it down on a shelving unit and looked at it like a prized possession.The next day, my father went to work and all the kids were in school. My mother was home, alone, unpacking a box of dishes in the kitchen at the back of the house. The kitchen had quickly become her favorite room, primarily because it was lined with windows facing the woods, and she had high hopes of seeing one of the elk that were known to inhabit the woods.So, as she washed, she continually looked out at the woods, hoping for a glimpse; the trees were very thin where the woods met the backyard, so she could easily see several hundred feet into the woods. Which was why she was so startled to see a man, about 20–30 feet into the woods from our property line, staring at our house.Now, she wouldn’t have been so surprised to see a hiker in the woods. But this man was wearing what appeared to be a suit, not even a business suit, but the kind of suit you see in period films from the 20s and 30s, like the Great Gatsby. In addition to this, there was no way he could have made his way there without being seen previously.There was a glare on the window, so Mom moved to the next window to get a better look…and found that the man in the suit had been joined by a lady, also in some sort of formal wear, a white dress, gleaming white, no signs of being dirty from walking through the woods. She stood directly next to the man, also staring at the house.My mom had a set of binoculars on the end of the kitchen counter, specifically placed to look at any elk that stumbled close to our property, so she went to grab them and by the time she turned back to the window, both man and woman had vanished.When Dad got home, there was a terse discussion between them, Mom insisting that she thinks it was somehow connected to the rock, Dad calmly telling her she was being hysterical. In the end, Mom demanded that Dad take the rock back to where he found it, and Dad, dejected, took it from the shelf and went to the creek to put it back.About a week later, I was walking home from school alone; my oldest brother went to a different school, junior high, and was normally home before me, and my other brother and sister had both gone off to friends’ houses after school. When I got to the house, there was a note up on the door from my oldest brother: “I went over to Gordon’s”.Ha, I had the house all to myself! At least until my parents got home, normally about 30–45 minutes after us kids, as my mom had gotten a job close to my dad’s work, so they drove together.I went in and made myself a snack, went up to my room and started playing with my toys. After a little bit, I heard the sound of one of the doors opening downstairs; knowing that I was alone, this obviously got my attention.I walked out of my room to the top of the stairs, where I could see the family room and kitchen, and shouted, “Hey, who’s home?” Nobody responded, and this is when I noticed it.The basement door was open.I knew when I’d gotten home that it was closed, but now, it was wide open. This did set off a lot of my internal alarms, but I was still working off the belief that it was one of my siblings being home. “Hello?”There was still no response…until I heard footsteps.These weren’t normal footsteps, they were heavy, much louder and heavier than my dad’s, and they were moving, slowly, from the kitchen back towards the foot of the stairs. I tensed up with fear and thought, quickly, “Where is there a room with a lock on it? The bathroom!” I ran across the hall to the bathroom, closing the door quietly and locking it.I could still hear the footsteps as they began climbing the stairs, but now I heard a new sound, the sound of something being dragged. Thump Thump Shhhhh…Thump Thump Shhhhh… It kept coming, up the stairs, then started making its way down the hall. As it passed outside the bathroom door, each step causing the floor to sag under my feet, I could see the shadow under the door…whatever it was, it was huge.I let out a little whimper, clamping my hand over my mouth, trying not to even breath. Tears streamed down my face.It continued down the hall, slowly. Thump Thump Shhhh…Thump Thump Shhhh…. And that’s when I heard the new sound: a car engine, in our driveway, then being turned off.I ran to the bathtub, climbing on the edge of it so I could look out the window and opened it, shouting, “MOM, DAD, I’M UP HERE, THERE’S SOMEBODY IN THE HOUSE!!!” I could see them look at each other, then run to the front door, Dad fumbling with his keys.In the hallway, I heard the Thump Thump Shhhh coming back my way, urgently. The doorknob was turned, one way, then the other, then jiggled, followed by an even faster Thump Thump Shhhh of…it…making its way downstairs. Just as I heard the front door open, I heard the basement door slam shut, followed by my dad calling for me.When they got to the bathroom, I opened the door and collapsed into Mom’s arms, trembling, as my dad searched the house. When he returned, saying there was nobody in the house, I said, “The basement, it went into the basement, that’s where it came from.”My dad’s expression changed. “The basement?” He went downstairs to the basement door; he was already holding a baseball bat in his hand, and he opened the door, flicked on the light, then made his way inside as I remained, crying in my mother’s arms. After a few minutes, he came back out of the basement, turned off the light, and closed the door, looking at my mom with a shrug.The three of us gathered in the kitchen and Mom made me a cup of hot chocolate as I described exactly what had happened. When I was done, she looked at Dad with an accusing look. “Honey, what did you do with that rock?”By this point, I had completely forgotten about the skull-shaped rock. My father’s shoulders sagged and he looked down…he was embarrassed. “I put it in the basement.”My mother lost it. She demanded that he immediately take the rock and return it to the creek, not to come back until he did.After that day, when my father returned the skull-shaped rock back to the creek bed, nothing further happened in that house, nothing out of the ordinary. We were still sufficiently spooked by what happened that we didn’t last long in that house, another 6 months or so before moving again.

Have you seen who’s in Trump’s cabinet and in his administration? If not, I can tell you: it ain’t Ma and Pa Kettle.Nice piece on the richest Cabinet ever, and why the money’s not actually the big problem:Yes, Trump’s Cabinet is super rich. That’s not why we should be worried.Candidate Trump targeted wealthy elites, but he seems comfortable with them in his White HouseYes, at this point anyone who’s in the White House is going to run with the elite because that’s the group one needs to get elected. (Price tag: $1 billion.) Don’t like it? Me neither. That’s why we need to work on election reform.So take that as a given and look at other factors. At least HRC has a lifelong record of public service. Trump has a lifelong record of screwing regular people who were unlucky enough to think he’d actually pay them. HRC has spent a lot of time advocating for women around the world. Trump has spent a lot of time screwing women he wasn’t married to around the world. (When you’re a celebrity, they let you do that.)USA TODAY exclusive: Hundreds allege Donald Trump doesn’t pay his billsThe Many Scandals of Donald Trump: A Cheat SheetSo yes, HRC would be doing a much better job. She actually knows what she’s doing. She wouldn’t be tweeting like a drunken frat boy or not reading Executive Orders she signs, or holding rallies to bolster her sagging ego or embarrassing us with her lack of basic knowledge. Jesus on a hoverboard, how low the bar’s fallen.Comments are open to the courteous and those plugged into reality. All others will be deleted and blocked.

Many actors dream of being eligible for SAG-AFTRA in such a manner: getting booked for a principal role in a union film, even though you are currently non-union.Getting in this way is sometimes referred to as being “Taft-Hartleyed,” which refers to part of the federal labor law that was passed in 1947 (for all labor unions, not just SAG). It’s simply a fast-track way of being drafted into the union.When a producer becomes a “signatory” with SAG-AFTRA it means they sign a contract with them, agreeing to follow their rules and procedures (including lots of paperwork). When a movie is under a SAG-AFTRA contract, the signatory must notify SAG-AFTRA within 15 days of the performer’s initial work date and include the reason for hire.The signatory must explain/justify why they hired a non-union actor over a union actor (it’s easier to justify when the actor has a special skill). Technically, the union can fine the signatory $500 if the explanation is not accepted by SAG-AFTRA, but I hear that the fine is not imposed too often.Once you’re hired, your 30-day “Taft-Hartley period” starts. During that 30 days, you can work both non-union and union jobs, without having to join SAG-AFTRA. Some people consider that 30-day window the best of both worlds! During that period you’re considered “SAG-AFTRA eligible” (or “SAG-AFTRA-E”).At the end of the 30 days, you’re still SAG-AFTRA eligible, but at that point you’re also a “must join.” That means that before you work your next SAG-AFTRA job, you must join the union. (Currently the national initiation fee for New York and L.A. is $3,000, and the semi-annual base dues are $107.16. You need to pay both when you join.*) If you decide not to join the union, that’s fine—you just can’t work any other SAG-AFTRA job until you do so.Check out this info from the SAG-AFTRA site (including the enclosed pdf link):https://www.sagaftra.org/what-taft-hartley-reportAlso, here’s some info about hiring non-union actors from a producer’s viewpoint:An Indie Producer’s SAG Cheat-Sheet*Unless you get a loan. See this flyer:https://www.sagaftra.org/files/sagaftra_initiationfeeloan_flyer.pdf