Five annos on

June 2012 The past few years have treated me luxuriously.  I have a partner with a smile so shiny, she lights up every room she enters.  I get to write things and post them around, and call it my profession (I profess that this is what I do; is that close?).  Daughtergirl is rump-kicking her … [more]

Prequel, the First

In 2011, my publisher Litsam, Inc. released Nothing In Reserve, a group of stories surrounding my deployment to Iraq in 2004-’05.  The following events and observations preceded the span covered by that book; some by a lot, some by less.  These are some of the triggers that launched my personal bullet, one which will seem … [more]

Reminders from an Irish Rose

I appreciate graceful language where I find it, but for a people wielding history’s most acquisitive linguistic hegemony, we’ve hidden it well. English suffers from its economic superiority. Victors are precise, even eloquent in the description of conquests past, but the beautiful human anguish dries up and falls away from a people too well-heeled, too … [more]

Pit Stop

This is who he was… He became a friend to me within a week after we moved into the decaying edifice across from his house. He was a journeyman carpenter; proud of his work, but humble about his life.  He would tell me which tools I needed – then loan them to me. He didn’t … [more]

Dream Boyz

When Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had dreams, they were visions of a better future for all humankind. When I have dreams, they’re just very strange narratives that leave me lying awake, wondering who it is that lives in my head at night. Last night’s entry in the annual Academy Awards for Political Unconciousness went … [more]

Gun Guys

I’m not really a gun guy. If you’re in my garage and I smile kinda crooked at you and ask if you want to see my “gun collection,” that most likely means I’m about to pull out the bottom drawer of my rollaway and gesture vaguely at the bladed beauties inside. My big honeys lurk … [more]

Dear Snotty Kid…

I didn’t ask whether you opened the door. I told you to close it. I don’t care if they’re your favorite pants. I care whether they cover your butt. That’s what pants are for, actually. It doesn’t matter if your homework is stupid. It matters that you do it. If you’re not hungry enough to … [more]

Real Americans

Real Americans don’t beat each other down. We help each other up. If someone else needs a beatdown, real Americans stand ready to administer it — and then offer the same hand up that we offer each other. Real Americans don’t break up American companies for a living and call ourselves “job creators.” We found … [more]