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Spit on That Thang

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  Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. We’ve all heard of that fifteen minutes of fame. That light of notoriety that shines on someone for a moment and then dims and goes away. If the fabled fifteen minutes becomes more, it is usually because the recipient really does have something to offer. Their ship will sail while others sink. Why did “Macarena” not launch the career of Los Del Rio like “She Loves You” did for The Beatles?   Because Los Del Rio didn’t have “it!” And “It” is an elusive commodity. “It” lands and blesses some and ignores others. “It” fills Shea Stadium to hear a four-piece band while Herman’Hermits faded into obscurity.   Crazy ideas occasionally fly. Catch phrases resonate through the years. Are the lambs still screaming? They screamed for a moment for Hailey Welch. She had rhythm and humor and was every man’s idea of the girl next door. You remember her. The one someone else married and you still recall fondly in you declining years of ED? Yeah! THAT gi...
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The Worm

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      As 2024 winds down and we remember those we left in the ground we must look ahead, forget about the dead because like a record made of wax, they’re never coming back. Now all you rappers and hackers, you write an opening line that good you tell me all about it.   My closing words for this year are simple. While you may wipe a tear away from the memories of those we lost don’t let it cloud the vision of things to come. Unless some unforeseen comet cashes in our chips January 1 st will arrive with hangovers and prayers and January 2 nd will not be very much different from the next 363 days that will follow until on December 31 st 2025 we’ll do her again and lament those we left in the boneyard for that year.   That’s the way life goes. And every year it goes and goes. And every year there are those who never come back. Years ago, as I watched the bodies being brought out of Luby’s I thought in my youthful mind, “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been me!” Wha...
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Back in MY Day . . .

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      The kids are not alright! Today I was watching a video of one of those staged, fake courtroom dramas where some mythical judge hears absurd cases from dinged out contestants explaining situations that almost never occur except on reruns of “I Love Lucy,” but as it dragged on it began to ring true because certain things had been woven into the storyline that so perfectly explained the “Z” generation they should be added to the Bible in a completely new book called Generation Lost! Let me elaborate.   There was this twenty-one-year-old kid, man, neutral gender, whatEVER suing his father for sixty-thousand dollars for failure to fulfill. Failure to fulfill what, you may ask? Seems as the kid grew the father had promised wonderful things to him when he achieved manhood, which, from his claim adequately demonstrated that he was yet to arrive at that point. He just turned twenty-one and stuck his hand out for his reward whereupon his father asked, “WHAT?” and he said...
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Frank/ A reading from the upcoming Audiobook, Karly

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  Frank wasn’t a trend setter; in fact, he was an excommunicated Mormon. A nondescript man in a nondescript town. Rocky Mountain High was in Aspen, but Frank had crashed and burned into the Bonneville Salt Flats. Frank wasn’t an alcoholic; he was a drunk!  He’d once been a devout church member, but all he found were demons. His new church was the state liquor store and a bar. In Utah liquor stores were all State Liquor Stores, ran like a pharmacy and the customers were treated like recovering addicts on methadone. Utah bars were not far behind. But they were bars, and there were women in it, such as they were.   Frank found his way to this bar as often as his SSI check would allow. He led an uneventful life in an uneventful town struggling to pay the rent, and the bar tab with just enough left for Vienna Sausages and Ramen Soup. Sometimes he’d hit the food bank and would have cream of chicken soup to add to it. The only excitement in his life was the little girl he met a...
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