This post is about a song by The Righteous Brothers. I don’t know if they really were righteous, but I do know they weren’t brothers.
I didn’t look like a kid with big hands; I looked like a kid wearing a pair of those giant foam hands they use to play Slapjack on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.
Death has an iPhone 5s and a pair of Beats headphones?
Our dogs got into a fight Monday. They say not to break up a dog fight, but I’m not gonna sit and watch them fighting in the living room. Sasha had provoked a number of fights with Pepper, and Pepper would grab Sasha by the scruff of her neck and just pin her down while Sasha snapped and snarled; we’d grab a towel or blanket and cover Sasha’s head, then grab their collars and pull themRead More
In these abominably wretched vile tragic despicable times, these times can be abjectly shocking.
It’s been at least 35 years since I thought of this song. If you were in high school in the late ’70s, you’ll probably shriek in horror and outrage just from seeing the title and artist: “Children of the Sun” by Billy Thorpe. If, like me, you bought the album, you no doubt remember Thorpe and the rest of band looked mighty weird, even by ’70s standards: In addition to the requisite vaguely erotic nudeRead More
Writing anything autobiographical is kind of like the second verse in that Neil Diamond song “I Am I Said”: Did you ever read about a frog Who dreamed of bein’ a king And then became one? Well except for the names And a few other changes Like leaving out irrelevant stuff and compressing the timeline a bit And not boring your readers with stuff that’s only interesting to you And trying to include a few minor details for color without lookingRead More