When my stepson was very small, he liked to talk about things that he had experienced, sometimes as recently as a week before or even a few days. It’s not like he could remember very far back. He didn’t have years worth of memories. It was more like weeks or…
Posts TaggedEssay
An Abundance Of Deficiency
The American grocery store, or supermarket as they are sometimes called, is a thing of freakish wonder to begin with. The sheer volume of goods, most of it not real food, is astounding and frightening. The latest trend are the gourmet grocery stores like Fresh Fields and Trader Joe’s. They…
In Defense Of Sarcasm
We, the members of the internet, just wanted to say a few words in defense of you who so diligently keep us informed on Facebook and other social media outlets about all the vital conspiracy theories, racist rants, urban myths, and fear-based flotsam and jetsam. You provide a valuable public…
I Don’t Do Cards
I don’t do cards. Not for birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, baptisms, funerals or Christmas. Never did. I don’t believe in them. In 1996 I met a woman who didn’t believe in cards either. We were married a year later. I’m not saying that was the only reason, but certainly a contributing…
Your Self Involvement Is Intruding On My Narcissism
I can’t stand people who only talk about themselves. Why should I be concerned about your life, your kids, your needs, your fears, when I have so many other issues to be annoyed by? It’s a little selfish if you ask me. I don’t want to offend anyone, but seriously,…
Sunday Is My Favorite Day Again
The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday. That’s guaranteed. I can’t begin to explain that. Or the craziness inside myself and everyone else. But guess what? Sunday’s my favorite day again. I think of what everyone did for me, and I feel like a very lucky guy.…
An Inside Guy
I’m an inside guy. I like being inside. Everyone wants me to go outside—especially my wife. But almost everything I want to do is inside. Inside is nice. It’s warm in the winter, and cool in the summer. I have wireless, my computer, my books, a nice chair, ice, alcohol.…
You People Are Pissing Me Off
I’m sure that should just be the title of my blog. You People Are Pissing Me Off. Also the title of my autobiography and the inscription on my tombstone, two things my father likes to point out when faced with an undeniable self-truth: “That’s should be the title of your…