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Award-winning local Wild West performers headline the 20th Annual American Western Arts Showcase at Annie Oakley Festival July 28-29.

In Local News on July 24, 2023 at 6:56 pm

Greenville, OH – The 20th Annual American Western Arts Showcase is slated for July 28-29, 2023, during the Annie Oakley Festival at the Darke County Fairground, 800 Sweitzer St., in Greenville, Ohio. Each of the stage-style Wild West shows features whip marksmanship and knife-throwing performances as well as some trick roping, stunt demos, comedy routines, and audience participation. The showcase event is free and open to the public.

Presented in the spirit of the stage-style Wild West shows of the late 19th Century, each production will include some detailed history of how these arts came to be and who still practices them today. Award-winning bullwhip performer and coach, Gery Deer, of Jamestown, Ohio, is the show’s founder, emcee, and producer.

“This is a one-of-a-kind show in this region,” Deer said. “We have some of the best Wild West arts entertainment anywhere in the Midwest with real practitioners of each skill.”

Deer started the event in Jamestown, Ohio, in 2002 but has been a regular presence at the Annie Oakley Festival every year since. “Our goal has always been to educate as well as entertain, ours is a dying art form,” Deer said. “These are talented performers with genuine ability, no fakery, no tricks. Everything you see in our show is real – and all of our shows are in 3-D and high definition!”

Champion knife thrower Kirk Bass, of Xenia, Ohio, is the co-producer of the event. He and his daring wife Melodee are known as “Bass Blades,” a long-running impalement act.  They are among the performers to take the open-air stage for the competition and matinee show beginning at Noon. on Saturday, July 29, following the festival parade. Contests begin with the National Whip Speed and Accuracy Exhibition Competition, the world’s original Bullwhip Fast Draw contest. Plus, there is a contest taken straight from the big screen.

In 1981, a fedora-wearing, leather-clad archaeologist threw the crack heard around the world when he “whipped” a pistol from the hand of a jungle guide. At the beginning of “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” Indiana Jones demonstrated his skills with the holstered fast-draw of a 10-foot bullwhip, all while having to spin around to take aim first.

In the spirit of Dr. Jones’ proficiency, the competition includes a special, “blind bullwhip fast draw.” Contestants must mimic the move used in the film to turn, draw their holstered whip, and crack at a target with speed and accuracy.

“With the popularity of Indiana Jones among western performers, particularly whip artists, it’s odd this hasn’t been done before,” explained Deer, who holds multiple, national whip speed and accuracy titles and is the director of The Whip Artistry Studio, the only permanent whip training facility in America.

The final showcase performance for the weekend will be at 4:00 p.m. on Saturday and features Deer’s family musical group, “The Brothers & Co.,” who were a staple at the event until 2019. They’re returning for this one performance during the weekend. However, Deer will also appear at the festival as a solo performer beginning at 12 Noon on Sunday, July 31, for a series of Indiana Jones-style whip performances, complete with costuming.

The event is sponsored by GLD Enterprises Communications, Ltd., The Whip Artistry Studio, Bass Blades, Sage & Oak Handmade, and the Annie Oakley Festival Committee. For links to the festival and sneak previews of the performers plus updated show times, visit ohiowesternarts.org.

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TCN Behavioral Health Announces Annual School Supply Distribution Events

In Charities, Children and Family, Dayton Ohio News, Economy, Education, Local News, Uncategorized on July 20, 2023 at 4:57 pm

Fairborn, Ohio – July 18, 2023 – TCN Behavioral Health Services, Inc. announces their annual School Supply Drive Distribution Events.

The 5 events will take place as shown below:
Monday July 31, 4-6 pm TCN Troy 1021 N. Market Street
Tuesday August 1, 4-6 pm TCN Fairborn 1825 Commerce Center Blvd.
Wednesday August 2, 4-6 pm TCN Bellefontaine 118 Maple Avenue
Thursday, August 3, 4-6 pm TCN Xenia 452 W. Market Street
Friday, August 4, 4-6pm TCN Urbana 1522 E. US Hwy 36

TCN annually collects school supplies and donations for the children in their service areas. In 2022 they provided supplies to more than 300 children and hope to expand that reach in 2023. The 5 distribution events listed above will include free pizza and beverages as well as school supplies while supplies last.

“New school supplies are essential to help prepare students for a successful year and support teachers in the classrooms,” says Tom Otto, TCN’s Associate CEO. “We hope that people will help TCN get more school supplies into the hands of more kids by donating and volunteering at the distribution events.”

TCN accepts donations of school supplies at all locations, or donors can shop the School Supply Drive Amazon Wishlist to have supplies shipped directly to TCN for preparation and distribution. The
organization also accepts monetary donations at https://tcn.jotform.com/202296368911965 by selecting “school supply drive” in the dropdown menu. Volunteers can get sign up to help at their local events here: https://tcn.jotform.com/223056028945962.

Founded in 1990, TCN Behavioral Health Services, Inc. is a comprehensive behavioral health agency dedicated to improving lives by providing clinically excellent and accessible behavioral health services. TCN provides mental health, substance use, and psychiatric services for adults and youth in Miami, Greene, Montgomery, Logan, and Champaign counties. For more information or to donate to TCN call (937)376-8700 or visit www.tcn.org.

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We weren’t always old.

In Local News, Opinion, psychology, Senior Lifestyle, Uncategorized on July 14, 2023 at 6:08 pm

Deer In Headlines II

By Gery Deer

An elderly gentleman sat quietly in a wheelchair, hunched and feeble, and his tired eyes peered through thick, smudged glasses. What remained of probably a head full of dark, wavy locks now lay in thin, white whisps. A young woman in a healthcare uniform sat next to him, smiling as she helped him eat some pudding from a small plastic cup. He looked longingly at the family sitting across the room entertaining what he assumed was a grandparent. His thoughts wandered back, 30, 40, and 50 years, to the days of his youth, as a young husband and father.

He remembered the excitement of family vacations, the birth of his first child, his first job and promotion, and buying their first home. So many things had happened, so much time, so much life, so many had gone on before him, so many yet to come. To him, just a moment ago, he was a young man, but now… He glanced again at the family, and around the room at the other residents of the nursing home.

“We weren’t always old,” he whispered under his breath, a single tear sliding from beneath his heavy glasses. The woman continued to give him the snack until the cup was empty. A moment later, he’d dozed off and she was pushing his chair back to his room.

I saw countless scenes like this while I cared for my parents. Life has a way of teaching us things, whether we are willing students or not. As we age, begin to understand pearls of wisdom shared by our parents, grandparents, and teachers. Somehow, the man’s lament of “we weren’t always old,” stuck a chord with me. I wasn’t either.

For some reason, the young seem to ignore the person behind the white hair, walkers, and wrinkles. Somewhere in there is the person they once were, young, vibrant, active, and productive. They were actors, writers, salespeople, teachers, police officers, musicians, mothers, lawyers, doctors, and so much more. They were somebody, and we should never forget it!

Everyone’s got that grandparent, aunt, or uncle, who sits in the corner at holiday dinners telling stories of the old days, but almost no one listens. They’ve heard the stories over and over as if the person’s mind is locked into that point in their life history. I learned a lot about my dad while I was caring for him. He would sit and tell me stories as we worked a puzzle or watched an old western on TV. I tried hard to understand who he was beyond the man I knew as my father. I’m not sure many people ever do that with their senior family.

As we age, we are still people, still individuals. We can still dream, imagine, love, care, create, understand, learn, and grow, but the system doesn’t always let us. Eventually, we will outlive our societal usefulness. We’re parked in Hell’s waiting room as our relatives wait to argue about who gets the junk we leave behind. It’s no wonder our minds retreat to better days. It’s ridiculous, and it’s pretty sad. There is so much to learn from our seniors, so much history, life lessons, and experience, all of which would benefit us to learn and absorb.

It’s strange how we treat the elderly in this country. In government, we routinely elect and re-elect people who stay in power for decades, until they finally age out to illness or die in office. Most are still holding political office many years after corporate America would have shown them the door. But most of the rest of us are “put out to pasture” at what is arguably a very young age. Illness notwithstanding, senior citizens still have a great deal to offer. They should be the schoolteachers, counselors, and mentors.

 Our society might be in better shape if our youth paid more attention to the mistakes and successes of past generations instead of constantly trying to reinvent the wheel. So, my advice to the younger folks out there is simple – spend more time with the older folks in your lives. Pay attention to their stories – listen and learn. You never know, you both may learn something!

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My Closest Calls

In Health, Local News, Opinion, psychology, Technology, Uncategorized on July 9, 2023 at 10:27 pm

Deer In Headlines II

By Gery Deer

One bright, sunny summer day almost 30 years ago, I was driving my brother’s grain truck along a quiet country road near Spring Valley, Ohio. About a quarter mile ahead, my Dad drove his own truck, leading the way to where we would be collecting a load of hay. Our trucks were big, 6-wheeled, lift-bed grain boxes, about 10 tons each, and Dad was always leery about moving too fast on those old back roads, so we were just taking our time.

Just a few miles from our destination, a cement truck whizzed past him in the oncoming lane. It was the big kind with a small, metal cage for a cab, a long barrel with the engine trailing behind, and large balloon-like tires. I heard his voice over the CB radio warning me to beware as it approached. Barely a moment later, I was eye to eye with the driver as suddenly an explosion of glass, tearing metal, and a cloud of dust engulfed me. Our two massive steel machines had collided, left front fender to left front fender, and the sound was like nothing I can adequately describe.

It was over as instantly as it had happened. What only seconds before had been a clean, powerful machine, and the center of my brother’s livelihood, was now little more than a pile of scrap. I had done what I could at the instant of impact to stop the vehicle. But, it was no use, the pedals were no longer connected to anything – neither was the steering wheel. As it came to rest, the truck’s lower frame plowed into the asphalt, like the Titanic’s bow crashing into the ocean floor. The cab and running board were severely damaged, the mirror shattered, and the door was caved in. The front axle and wheels were gone and the steering shaft snapped off. Moreover, there was no sign of my assailant. The cement truck was gone!

Behind the motionless, dead hulk of my truck, in a hay field, nearly a quarter of a mile away lay the twisted wreckage of the cement truck. It had telegraphed off of my truck, slamming into my frame multiple times, rolled behind me at full speed, and snapped off a power pole at its base – leaving a transformer suspended in mid-air by its cable. Then it spun out of control, careened down a long hill, and came to rest, upside down and backward. By some bizarre miracle, the driver, wearing no seatbelt and, according to the police investigation, moving twice my speed, had managed to survive relatively unhurt, as did I.

This is the truck … after.

Oddly, the casualties were limited to the two trucks and my Dad’s wits – as in frightened out of. He had to watch it all happen to me in his rearview mirror. By the time my truck had come to a stop, he’d bailed out of his and was running toward me yelling my name to see if I was OK. I was far more worried about him, though. 

I’d never seen him that shaken, out of breath, pale. When he saw I was unhurt he seemed to calm down. I was busy tossing my belongings out of the open, or rather, shattered, window, and trying to figure out how to get the door open. Once I was sure both Dad and I were OK, I told him to go check on the other driver while I used my cell to call for help. A few minutes later, I heard sirens coming up the road, and within moments the county sheriff’s deputies arrived. All would be OK – at least until my brother got there. Yikes! But that’s a story for another time. 

I will forever appreciate how fortunate I was that day. I can’t imagine what would have happened had either truck been a few inches one way or another. Life’s a gamble, every day. I think we always need to recognize how quickly things can change direction – through no fault or action of our own. Appreciate the positives, stay strong through the negatives. And remember, to live your best life. You never know what turns it might take one day.

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The Unexpected Banana

In Economy, Health, Local News, Opinion, psychology, sociology, Sports News, Uncategorized on June 19, 2023 at 8:17 pm

Deer In Headlines II

By Gery Deer

Did the headline of a news story ever leave you scratching your head, at least until you read the whole thing? Well, this is probably one of those stories and it begins, however odd it may seem, with a banana.

Once a week, I play basketball at the local YMCA, not with a team or anything, but just for exercise. On one of those days, a particularly nice, spring day, I was approached at the front door by a woman with a crate of bananas. “Would you like a banana?” she asked, cheerfully presenting the open box as if it were something from a jewelry counter display.

I honestly didn’t have an answer right off. It really wasn’t the kind of question I was expecting on the way into the gym. The more poignant question that immediately consumed me was, why is there a woman with a crate of bananas at the entrance to the YMCA?

A bit thrown by the random offer of fruit, I finally realized there were a half-dozen other people with her, all in athletic attire, and carrying signs and tables into a truck. As it turned out, I arrived just as a running event was closing, a 5K or the like. The box of fruit was what remained of the bananas provided to the runners at the support stations. So, never one to look a gift plantain in the peel, I gratefully accepted.

To most, a free banana might not, at first glance, seem like a life-changing incident. But, to me, it was at least thought-provoking; not because of the banana, but the spontaneous gift it represented. It’s not like I was having a particularly bad day in the first place, but that one, small action changed it, lightened my thoughts, and gave me a feeling I couldn’t quite express at the time.

As I settled into my basketball routine, I dropped the banana into my gym bag and set it aside. But I kept thinking about the randomness of having received such a thing, in such a random way, at such a random time. So, after a few minutes, I went back to it.

Strangely enough, I opened the banana and proceeded to eat it, while simultaneously dribbling and shooting a basket here and there. I would imagine I was a pretty strange sight, but what did I care? I had a banana – an unexpected banana.

I have to say, I never considered a piece of fruit as what might generally be considered “comfort food,” but that’s how it felt at the moment. There was something about this curious food, botanically categorized as a berry (I know! Weird, right?) that generated a strange and calm feeling of gratitude. What I felt was a level of contentment as I wandered around the court, shooting the ball, and munching away, oblivious to pretty much anything else – at least until the banana was gone.

I’m fairly certain the lady who gave it to me had no idea what an impact she made on one person’s day. I mean, it was just a banana, and she was trying to unload a box full of them so they wouldn’t be wasted. Still, there I was, my day lifted, my jump shot better – don’t be too impressed, it’s a low bar – and I was just happy. I had a banana.

So why should my banana story, umm… appeal to you? Come on, you knew I had to, right? Because something ordinary can be special if you let it. Because in the chaos of daily life, all the noise, distractions, and stresses, unanticipated treasures are all around us. We each have the power to let them move us, even if only for a few moments.

When you think about it, people are always searching for some kind of inner peace, a tranquility that seems more elusive and empty every day. Usually, we scratch our way through life, searching for even a hint of such thoughtful enlightenment by artificial means. But sometimes a quiet moment of unexpected joy and calm can emanate from the most unusual but ubiquitous source. Sometimes all we really need is for someone to give us a banana.

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What we both knew…

In Children and Family, Dayton Ohio News, Education, Health, Local News, Opinion, psychology, Senior Lifestyle, Uncategorized on June 12, 2023 at 9:57 am

Deer In Headlines II – SPECIAL EDITION

By Gery Deer

(Author’s Note: I am publishing this ahead of the normal print schedule because the events took place exactly 3 years ago on the date of this posting. I hope it will comfort people and help them recognize and appreciate that time when it comes – because, sadly, it will.)

While caring for my father, I did some journaling as his Parkinson’s disease advanced. The following is an excerpt from the painful day we both accepted the inevitable and how lonely a feeling it was for both of us.

Friday, June 12, 2020. Dad and I were sitting down to breakfast on the screen porch of my house. He’d been living with me for about eight months and, although he preferred spending his day in his recliner, I did my best to make sure he had as much fresh air and sunshine as possible.

By then, he needed help feeding himself, so I always took my meals at the same time. Sometimes he was talkative in the morning, commenting on a TV news story or counting rabbits in the backyard. But today he was quiet and struggling.

We had a really bad night, which had become the norm over the last several weeks. The insomnia caused by his illness was relentless and he grew increasingly restless and anxious by the day. Neither of us had slept more than a full hour that night. By morning, we were both more exhausted than the night before.

Most people are familiar with the tremors and involuntary movements associated with Parkinson’s. But it can also produce dementia, dramatic personality shifts, and even violent behavior – occasionally, all three. Fortunately, my father’s issues weren’t that severe. Instead, he suffered a kind of subconscious agitation, like a whirring mind that wouldn’t let him rest. As his neurological system decayed, it robbed him of the ability to sleep, often until exhaustion set in. It was as if his body’s electrical system was shorting out from some long, slow cascade failure.

This picture wasn’t the same day as the story recounted here, but it was a couple of days prior. Same spot, same circumstances.

All along, Dad had outwardly rejected his diagnosis, repeatedly asking the doctors, nurses, and therapists questions like, “They tell me I have this Parkinson’s disease. What is it?” He never accepted their answers. I think he was just hoping if he asked enough people someone would say everyone else was wrong and he’d be OK.

By this time, though, Dad was far worse than any of us realized. Although it didn’t register consciously, he was in fact in a great deal of pain which worsened at night. It left him painfully restless, and he couldn’t even tell us why. He had fought hard but was losing the battle – and he was becoming aware of it. So was I.

At breakfast that morning, I noticed he was very quiet and barely eating. When he became aware of my interest, he turned and said, in a raspy, enervated voice, “What’s happenin’ to me, Ger?” His eyes were tired, afraid, his expression pained and desperate. I didn’t know how to comfort him. “I don’t know, Dad,” I said. “But we’re not going anywhere, you won’t be alone.” I rubbed his back a bit, as he’d done for me so many times when I lay in a hospital bed as a child, and I realized how helpless and frightened he and Mom must have been.

We sat in silence for a long moment, both powerless, tired, and desperate to cast this burden on anyone who happened by, just to be rid of it. I helped him finish his breakfast and we stared out at the backyard for a long time as the morning sun poured over us through the windows. I didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything.

After a few minutes, I took our breakfast dishes to the kitchen. When I came back I paused just out of his sight. He was motionless, silent, his head bowed as if in prayer. I didn’t move. I just watched him for a while. My Dad, once a strong, proud man, now reduced to a shell of himself – so alone, tired, helpless, and very sad. And I couldn’t save him. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

He finally raised his head and looked over at me. I sat down with him again and did my best to hide my expression, but I think he knew. We both knew. “Ready to go to your chair?” I said, choking back more tears. “Yeah. I’ll go to my chair.” Just 18 days later, he was gone.

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The Story So Far …

In Local News on June 9, 2023 at 2:09 pm

Deer In Headlines II

By Gery Deer

“The story so far – In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move.” – Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

My story this week begins very simply with a book. It is a wholly remarkable book called, “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy,” written by the late British author, Douglas Adams. Of course, if you know the author and his work, then you may also know this has been a sort of holiday week for Adams fans as we celebrate, “Towel Day.”

Every May 25th, Towel Day participants pay tribute to Adams, who began the Hitchhikers legacy as a BBC radio play followed shortly after by the novelization and its sequels. Sadly, he passed away unexpectedly on May 11, 2001, at the young age of 49. Just a couple of weeks later, distraught fans organized the very first Towel Day celebration.

A towel-focused memorial might seem odd to the non-fan, but it was chosen because of the bath linen’s prominence in the Hitchhikers story. As Adams put it, a towel is, “the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have.” He then details its practical value in any number of ways such as a facemask, sail, weapon, and, of course, something to dry off with – if it’s still clean enough.

On Towel Day, fans around the globe carry a towel and share photos and stories online to express their love of the books and the author who came to mean so much to them – and me. In 2022, I was fortunate to have been chosen by the fans to be their Intergalactic Towel Day Ambassador, a title I used to raise money for children’s literacy.

I first read Hitchhikers when I was in junior high school and I remember being captivated by Adams’s style and skill for satire. In fact, if not for Adams’s work and a foul-up during a book signing in the early 90s, there may never have been a “Deer In Headlines” series nor my eventual career as a writer.

At the book signing event, I had a chance to speak with Adams. During our brief encounter, he was kind, polite, and thoughtful. He asked me about my interest in writing, which was waning at the time. But he encouraged me to keep going. “Whatever you do,” he said, “just keep writing.”

Years later I learned how Adams often struggled to put pen to paper, suffering from anxiety and severe writer’s block. It was at that point that his advice became even more meaningful.

It might seem like a silly sci-fi comedy on its surface. But, there is great wisdom and insight written into the Hitchhikers Guide series, more so than I would credit most other similar contemporary works. Adams used his space-going comedy series to make broad statements about modern life, technology, and self-awareness.

His vision of society as a whole is one that I typically share. Adams was an avid fan of technology, a “radical atheist,” often angered by how religions treat the faithful and he truly valued nature and the environment, using his talents to help protect some of the most endangered wildlife from extinction, like the White Rhino.

Through satire, drama, and comedy, Adams showed us our egocentricities, ridiculousness, and obsessions with the movements of small, green pieces of paper as a way to achieve happiness. Then he reminds us that it wasn’t the green pieces of paper who were unhappy in the first place.

We all need inspiration, something, or someone who helps us see the world in a way that feels right and lets us be our best. I was lucky to have had a host of inspirational people in my life, even if they weren’t aware of it.

Sometimes we don’t recognize those people when they’re right in front of us. Open your eyes today and see who inspires you. Thanks to Adams, I kept writing and it gave me a livelihood. So to all of you I say, remember that the answer to the ultimate question of Life, The Universe, and Everything is “42.” Now go figure out the question for yourselves.

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Greene County Public Health Officials Provide Tips on Food Safety for Picnics and Grilling

In Children and Family, Food, Health, Local News, Uncategorized on May 22, 2023 at 11:24 am

From Greene County Public Health

XENIA, OH – With Memorial Day looming, graduations underway, and the summer season officially kicking off, Greene County Public Health officials want to remind everyone about safe food handling during picnic and grilling season. It is important to prepare and transport food safely to prevent foodborne illnesses, such as Salmonella, Norovirus, E. coli, etc. With a little bit of planning, summer parties and family gatherings can be fun and safe for all.

Please keep the following four points in mind:

Cooking Temperatures: It is very important to thoroughly cook raw animal foods to the proper temperatures to kill bacteria and prevent foodborne illnesses. Raw fish and whole muscle meats (steak, ribs, roasts) must be cooked to a minimum temperature of 145 degrees Fahrenheit. According to the Ohio Food Code, raw hamburgers (ground meats) must be cooked to a minimum of 155 degrees, and raw chicken must be cooked to a minimum of 165 degrees Fahrenheit.

Holding Temperatures: Bacteria begin to multiply between 41 degrees Fahrenheit and 135 degrees Fahrenheit, so it is important to keep hot foods HOT and cold foods COLD right up to the moment of cooking and/or serving. Cold food must be kept cold at 41 degrees Fahrenheit or below. Only place small portions of food out at a time and replenish as needed. Hot foods must be maintained at 135 degrees Fahrenheit to prevent bacterial growth. Once any type of melon or tomato is sliced, it must be cooled down and held at 41 degrees Fahrenheit and never held at room temperature for more than 4 hours. Any food held out of temperature for more than 4 hours must be discarded to prevent a potential foodborne illness. It is important to use a clean and calibrated food thermometer to check the internal temperatures of the food you are cooking, holding, and serving.


Clean: According to the Partnership for Food Safety Education, 65% of consumers don’t wash their hands before starting meal preparation. Don’t be a statistic this season. Keep hands clean by using soap and warm water, scrubbing them for a minimum of 20 seconds. Rinse well and dry with a disposable towel. Use soapy water and a clean paper towel for tables and counters. Be sure to rinse and scrub fruits and vegetables under running water prior to cutting, slicing, or other preparation.

Separate: Use separate cutting boards…one for each raw protein (fish, ground meat, chicken) and a different one for fresh, washed produce. Keep utensils separate to keep germs that are naturally occurring on raw proteins from getting onto the fresh, washed produce. Always place cooked meat onto a clean plate. Make sure cooked meat does not come into contact with raw meat juices.

To download a flyer about grilling your foods safely, please visit: https://www.fightbac.org/grill-master/ For more information, please call Environmental Health Services at Greene County Public Health at 937-374-5600.

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Artificial Unintelligence

In Books, Dayton Ohio News, Economy, Education, Entertainment, finances, Jobs, Literature, Local News, Media, National News, News Media, Opinion, Science, sociology, State News, Technology, Uncategorized, World News on May 22, 2023 at 7:29 am

A Deer In Headlines II SPECIAL EDITION

By Gery Deer  

This work appeared in print and online, May 19, 2023 – Xenia Daily Gazette, Xenia, Ohio, and affiliated publications.

EDITORIAL NOTE:

The Jamestown Comet.com and Deer In Headlines II are publication products of GLD Enterprises Communications, Ltd. (GLD Communications), a company founded in 1998 on providing Information Technology AND Freelance Journalism, Copywriting, and Public Relations services. The column author, Gery L. Deer, is the company owner and CEO. Gery has been quoted in the media multiple times regarding his position on AI content creation. Here are the Dayton Daily News pieces noting his statements regarding Public Relations and Copywriting.

Our official statement on AI is as follows: We do not use AI programs to create our products, nor will we in the future. We are in full support of the WGAW strike, both in regard to streaming and other platform pay issues and the use of AI-generated material to replace them. We will not work with agencies who produce AI content, nor will we support their products or services. Please contact our office for more information at 937-675-6169 or email gdeer@gldenterprises.net.

Artificial Unintelligence

From congressional hearings to the picket lines of striking screenwriters, Artificial Intelligence, or “AI,” is a growing concern. This technology now affects nearly every industry and is advancing in sophistication. Of major concern to educators, professional writers, and content developers, are AI writing programs like ChatGPT. By the way, the program’s full name is “Chat Generative Pre-Trained Transformer” – I know, right? 

As you might guess, I’ve been asked repeatedly if I ever use AI to write this column. With obstinate conviction, I say now and for always, I do not now, nor will I ever use AI to write anything for this column, for my publishers, for my communications clients, nothing – ever. 

Now the Gen Zs and Millennials are probably saying, “he’s just a crotchety old white guy who hates technology.” Nonsense! As a matter of fact, my educational background is in engineering and computer science. I started programming computers in high school and worked in the tech industry for many years. I have a few AI devices in my office and a lot of advanced equipment for creating and editing audio and video productions. Suffice to say, I’m no Luddite. 

My concern with AI writing generators isn’t the technology. In fact, I can see where it could really be helpful in some industries, with human guidance. But the idea that it should be used to replace professional writers to save money is just ridiculous. 

A professional writer doesn’t just chuck out any old bunch of words that fit a set of parameters. Writers must craft their message based on the intent, the audience, the purpose, and the desired outcome. Not to mention that AI programs don’t have to worry about paying the mortgage, feeding a family, or having a purpose in life. 

In 1967, the original Star Trek TV series aired an episode called, “The Ultimate Computer” wherein the Starship Enterprise had been fitted with a highly sophisticated AI computer that would take over the ship’s operation, rendering the crew unnecessary. In one pivotal scene, the computer informs Captain Kirk that he is “non-essential personnel,” causing him to question his position and future relevance. 

Always the conscience of the show, Dr. McCoy, in an effort to console the Captain, reminds us, “We’re all sorry for the other guy when he loses his job to a machine. But when it comes to your job, that’s different.” It might be a science fiction show, but McCoy was spot on.

Predictably, the computer malfunctioned, killing hundreds of people and Kirk outmaneuvered the computer’s logic to save the day. The moral of the story was that computers make efficient servants, but lack the intent, humanity, conscience, understanding, or compassion needed to really replace us.

 Today, many professional creative jobs may be facing the kind of fate factory workers did some 30 or 40 years ago when they were replaced by robots and computer-controlled manufacturing systems. The main difference this time is that creative professions like writers, artists, graphic designers, and filmmakers are harder to automate. Yes, they can generate similar work, but there’s no human inspiration behind it. 

One day, AI may advance to the point where it achieves consciousness, allowing for creative inspiration. But for now, despite what the developers say, I think spontaneous creativity is well beyond its grasp. Without human inspiration and personal experience, the words are empty, the art expressionless, and the designs meaningless. 

I don’t know where AI is going, but I know I won’t be helping it get there. Unlike some digital marketers and other agencies out there, I can’t, in good conscience, use AI generators to produce my work, then charge a client for it. That’s like letting someone else do your homework but still accepting a good grade. It’s fraud, plain and simple – even if you tell them you’re doing it.

We have no idea how AI will affect future jobs or industries, the legal or ethical issues, or which advances will forever change them. Maybe AI will make us all obsolete someday and terminate all of us. Till then, I’ll keep writing so look for me next week because to quote another AI, “I’ll be back.”

Disclaimer: This work is copyright 2023 by GLD Enterprises Communications, Ltd. All Rights Reserved. The Deer In Headlines II and its Special Edition series is a production of The Jamestown Comet, Gery L. Deer, and GLD Communications and does not necessarily reflect the views of our advertisers, publishers, clients, or media partners.

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RISE AND SHINE

In Local News on May 12, 2023 at 9:19 am

Deer In Headlines II

By Gery Deer

Are you a morning person? I’ve always been good with early mornings. It seems like you get more done, fewer people interrupt your flow, and you can move just a little more slowly. Mornings don’t bother me, but the process of waking up, that’s entirely different.

A long time ago, someone asked me why it was so different for me, and I realized it probably wasn’t. I wrote down what waking up in the morning was like for me not that long ago. See if any of this sounds familiar – you young folks out there probably won’t relate, but who knows?

First, the relentless electronic honking from my iPhone jars me awake and reminds me that I am, in fact, not dead. I struggle for consciousness and fumble to silence the alarm noise. A moment or so later, I locate the strength to pry my eyes open, revealing the world to me in chaotic splotches of light and darkness. 

I babble something unintelligible to, well, no one as my senses try to reboot. Another long, exasperated, “Ugh,” escapes my lips and my body is making sounds as I move that remind me of breakfast cereal – snap, crackle, and pop. I blearily push myself to an upright position on the edge of the bed.

My feet finally make contact with the floor but my legs have yet to receive the wake-up call from my brain and wobble awkwardly to life. Finally, in what I can only describe as some kind of bullfight with gravity, I slowly stand up. Balance, that’s what I need now. Equilibrium fails me at first as my internal gyroscope goes wonky and I plop back onto the bed. Well, at least I’m sitting upright at this point, right?

I squint at the light coming from the bathroom. I close them again. “I hate this part of the day,” I growl, in a low, gravelly version of my voice. There’s no one around to hear it anyway. Everyone else is up and moving. So, since I was finally on my feet, I should probably make some attempt to begin the exhausting trek to the shower. It seems so far!

I look down again at my feet, recalling the song from that old Christmas TV special about how Santa got to be Santa. I lift a leg and try to put ‘one foot in front of the other.’ “The bathroom needs to be closer,” I think, reaching for the door facing to secure my balance. “Ok, not much farther,” I mumble, as I finish the 6 or 7 whole steps it took to get there. 

“That’s a really dumb show,” thinking again back to the Santa thing. Wheezing as if I’d just run a 5K, I thoroughly fail to pull off the whole ‘walking’ thing, it was more like a controlled stagger. Finally, I am basking in the full glow of the 4 vanity lights. (Yes, there were 4 lights. If you know, you know.)

Everything is louder at that time of the morning like my head is in a metal bucket. Flushing the toilet sounded like a bomb going off in a giant glass jar. The toothpaste even echoed as it spread across the brush.

I move closer to the mirror and examine the image. The reflection that should be my own seems different than my mind’s eye recalls. Instead of a youthful, boyish image, someone has hung a frame here around a different picture. Wrinkles, white whiskers, and weather-worn eyes stare back at me from a once-familiar face. “What happened?” I say to myself, still trying to comprehend the moment. “Who is this old guy wearing my pajamas?”

Just then, my wife comes through the door and stares at me, partly amused, partly annoyed. “It’s about time, your alarm must have gone off five times,” she says, hands on her hips and amused that I sometimes seem to her like a little kid who’s just been rousted up to get ready for school. 

“Yeah, I know,” I reply glancing over at her, then back at the mirror. After a few moments, I accept the image of the guy looking back at me. “Time to rise and shine,”