This is not my fault. We need to be clear on that right here at the outset. I would gladly never have seen what I am about to relate to you, and which you may soon also wish I had not shared as well. What was it Barney the purple dinosaur was so fond of …
It is a strange and startling thing, carrying your wired Jack Russell outside on a 3 a.m. bathroom run, scanning the yard with a flashlight, and being dive-bombed from beyond the arc of light by a dying cicada that comes screaming out of the sky. I shared that snippet of wee-hours weirdness on Facebook a …
I started this post, a pre-appraisal of this year of our wisely absent Lord, 2025, on the night of Dec. 31 of the previous one. It’s something I’ve undertaken in some fashion most New Year’s, for more than a decade now. But this time, I just stopped, right in the middle of it. I couldn’t …
Early last evening, still a ways prior to the pop-off chaos of July 4 celebration, I was down at the end of our driveway messing with some damn yard blemish or other, just up from the stationary parade of tiny United States flags my one neighbor puts out along his curb every time a day …
In the game of golf, as in life, there are penalties. Without some repercussions built into the system, your bulbous neighbors Gareth and Becky Anne are soon enough dancing buck-wild nekkid in your shared driveway under the new strawberry moon, while your “president” is illegally deporting your fellow citizens to foreign countries where they yank …
This will surely piss off some of you. Fine. The time to be pissed off is now. You fucks. You lousy, defeatist fucks. Now that I’ve set the tone: This is an open letter to the Democratic Party, from one of your own. To be more exact, likely soon to be one of your former …