Words in a Row

Spelling and grammer and all that stuff--supposibly its like, real important!

Category

Peeps

 

‘Frogs,’ aka ‘Why Sam Elliott Wishes He’d Been in a Porno’

I like frogs. Not real frogs, in a ter­rar­i­um as pets. They aren’t exact­ly cud­dly. I do like frogs’ legs, though. They aren’t cud­dly either; just deli­cious. It’s just some­thing I like col­lect­ing. Frog stuff: Frogs on T‑shirts; Far Side car­toons that fea­ture frogs; ceram­ic frogs. Some folks col­lect Match­box cars; some folks col­lect com­ic books. I col­lect frogs. I was in Tope­ka, KS—my home town—last week. And there’s a sports bar in Tope­ka called Jere­mi­ah Bull­frogs.Read More

Happy Little Bloodbath

Today I’m binge-watch­ing Bob Ross. No, really.

A Churnin’ Urn o’ Burnin’ FUNK!

Before Rohyp­nol, Jethro Tull T‑shirts were, alas, the only way a lot of guys could get laid.

Pope Ernie

Call me Pope Ernie. Or His Holi­ness Ernest the Oneth, if you’re a Shi­ite Catholic.

John Denver Was an Alien and He Killed Himself and All I Got Out Of it Was This Boring Childhood

John Den­ver did­n’t die, kid. He just went home.

If You Give Your Wife a Peppermint Plant…

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

My Dad’s Hands

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.

We and Mrs. Jones

The three-headed cover art suddenly makes a lot more sense.

And now, chil­dren, hear and remem­ber the tale of me, Bil­ly Paul, Mrs. Jones, my friend Rob, and my dog Meat­ball: Long, long ago, in a lit­tle state named Kansas, which no one wants to admit com­ing from except the clas­sic rock band Kansas and pos­si­bly Bob Dole, two young men and a dog were tool­ing around town in the leg­endary mus­cle car  Charles the Deep Breather, which prob­a­bly sounds sil­ly because you weren’t there,Read More