Beep, beep, beep. They are building a 300-unit apartment complex outside my apartment window. Every piece of heavy equipment must beep. In the 90’s, they only used to beep when they went backwards. But now, some of them beep when they go backwards and forwards, side to side. Continue reading “Beep”
Hop T. Hare loves baloney, but all he was allowed to eat was carrots. Hop was so sick of carrots. Once, he ate so many carrots, he turned orange.
One day, Hop was playing in a yard and he saw an open window. Normally, Rabbits don’t sneak into Human houses, but Hop had refused to eat his breakfast carrots this morning and he was starving. Hop, against all his Rabbit judgement, jumped through the window and went to the kitchen. Continue reading “Don’t Hate Carrots”
Today, I saw a man carrying an onion. I was heading north on Highway 17 and he was walking along Houston Northcutt boulevard in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina. I was first at the red light (yes!) and he crossed in front of me, walking his red bicycle. His onion was yellow. He was carrying it like carrying an onion was a normal act. The onion was in his right hand; throwable, if he wanted. Continue reading “The Man with the Onion”
And what have you done, Yoko?
I wouldn’t say it’s my “favorite” time of year only because a seventy-five degree day in April is pretty awesome; but I do enjoy Christmastime. I realize that I have neglected these pages the last few months, and for that I am sorry. No excuses. I do appreciate those who have enjoyed and supported this blog over the years. My most popular work by far is pieces about the holidays, so I would be remiss if I didn’t disappoint you one more time before 2019 with some thoughts on Christmas. Continue reading “So This is Christmas”
For a dude that’s been around for a few hundred years, he hasn’t done much. Continue reading “Santa is Finished: Let’s give the Big Man the Boot”
A growing obsession overlooked by the mainstream is plaguing suburbia at an alarming rate: knitting. I guess it begins harmlessly enough, darning a sock when nobody’s there like Eleanor Rigby. But then it grows into a debilitating illness. Take for instance Deloris Clark. She’s 52 and her cats have a bigger wardrobe than most American children. Or take Norris Berkowitz who is allergic to wool but can’t stop knitting. His hands and face swell up every day beyond the point of recognition. These are just a few of the stories I uncovered as I delved deeper into the corrosive world that is knitting. It’s not just for your Granny anymore.
Two months ago, I wrote the most read and discussed piece on Covered in Beer. Never did I think that my rather basic opinions of a generalized category of music would cause so much discussion. Some people really didn’t read past the title but decided to call me an idiot in the comments anyway. Most, thankfully, read the piece and then engaged in a discussion. Whether they agreed or not, I appreciate their (and your) views on anything I write because the point is to generate debate. “Let Classical Music Die Already” certainly did that.