Painting by the numbers

“__________ is just a number.” Is it, really? Only that? When you’re painting by the numbers, the colors aren’t your own. The amount of weight you lifted ten years ago (or last week): that’s just a number. It means nothing to you now. The amount you lift today is a piece of your life as it … [more]

Scuffs and Patches

Smalldaughter’s tone was polite but imperative. It was the second sentence that moved me into a sprint that made my back quit hurting. I heard her voice echo down the hall. “Jack, I need you. “Ruby got hit by a car.” The girls’ trust is touching. I wasn’t as  calm as they are when I … [more]

Boxing Day

It’s not much of a present: kind of a lumpy little box, knocked up from plywood with brad-pinned butt joints. Its four stubby legs are sawn sections of thick oaken doweling, and the vaguely shoe-shaped carrying handle doubles as a foot rest for a man receiving a shine. Shoe shine boxes were a classic shop … [more]

ROK ‘n’ roll

Once upon a time back in the misty past of the early 1980s, a geeky 19-y.o. pushed BCGs up his nose, hoisted a green duffel over his green polyester leisure suit with its one lonely ribbon, and got onto Flight 007 to head for the Republic of Korea via Japan. We didn’t yet know how … [more]

A terse reminder

Dear fellow American, I’d like to pass along this brief reminder, for purposes of clarification. Despite what others may say, you’re not part of the problem if you: believe your President heralds the coming of the Antichrist call your military servicemembers “sadists” and “mass murderers” insist on social control of vaginas, but are afraid to … [more]

Remission Rates & Dog Rebates

I’m almost afraid to post this. One year before the day before Halloween 2013, Tucker Dog had his leg taken off due to cancer. In medical terminology, he was “disarticulated at the hip,” which is just as horrifying and brutal as it sounds. He came home on Halloween night shaking with terror, crawled up on … [more]

Pick It Up

You, I got a problem with.

You’re the guy who believes the One Percent are more important than the 99 Percent, not because you think they’re terrific people but because you just insist on having a relentless, secret antagonist to justify your failures by their oppressions. You’re the political lesbian who wants more to blame men than to love women. You’re the people who run around waving your hooves, bleating “Sheeple! Sheeple!” at everyone else, instead of actually DOING anything about the problems you vaguely perceive but are unwilling to define, let alone work to remedy.

Flying ACE

Sometimes I forget about things. I’ve been meaning to post this onto Jaxworx, if only to share the transcendent joy of stone knife-simple — yet purposefully refined — open air motoring of the kind espoused by Mr. Peter Larsen. This article was originally written in the autumn of 2008 for Motorcyclist magazine which, after some … [more]