I figured something out today, an extension of a lesson I learned in college, though it wasn't something I picked up in the classroom. And to tell this story properly I have to admit something: For a time in the late '80s and early '90s, I was in a fraternity.

Jason Bohn owned the joint when he teed off on the 17th hole at Sedgefield Country Club on Sunday afternoon, the final round of the Wyndham Championship. He sat alone atop the leaderboard at 16 under par for his week's efforts, plus he was having the best round of the day.

It had been a tough season so far for the Hornets of the Price-Bryan YMCA summer basketball league. Even as the season began, the 9- and 10-year-olds faced a nearly insurmountable challenge: It was the kids first year playing together as a team, while all the other squads in the league had a least a couple seasons worth of experience.

I've run away from home. Why? None of your damn business, that's why. Suffice it to say that, like Bill Murray's character in the film What About Bob?, I'm taking a vacation from my problems.

It all started out innocently enough, I guess: a free outdoor concert in downtown Greensboro, a gathering of friends and family, a summer afternoon with the implied promise of lazy fun and fellowship.

I'm going to tell you something about yourself that you might already know, but may have forgotten: You think you are a pretty funny person. It's okay - everyone thinks that they have a great sense of humor, just like everybody thinks they're a little smarter than average and that their families are more messed up than anyone else's.

A mid the normal afternoon sounds at Wet 'N' Wild Emerald Pointe waterpark - laughter, yes, and excited screams and the constant rush of moving water came a strained and slow flatulence followed by a wet, smacking plop.

The army ant general lined up his 10 best ants, and paced in front of them. He got right into the first soldiers proboscis and gave him his marching orders. I want you to go out there and tell the truth! Now go! Go! And off the first ant scurried, to go tell the truth.

The army ant general lined up his 10 best ants, and paced in front of them. He got right into the first soldier's proboscis and gave him his marching orders. "I want you to go out there and tell the truth! Now go! Go!" And off the first ant scurried, to go tell the truth.

I used to wear my grandfathers Army jacket when I was a teenager. I couldnt have been much more than 14 my grandfather at his tallest was maybe 5-foot-4, and he was in his twenties when he was fitted for that short, wooly, impossibly green garment.