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facebookisms
What’s the best rat poison?
If you haven’t seen 22 Jump Street yet, neither have I.
I don’t think people are stupid.
Most people don’t seem to understand that when Hamas says they want *all* Jews dead, I think they’re just talking about the ones in Israel.
Every once in awhile something amazing happens. If you’re lucky, nobody else notices.
If homeless people sometimes live in cars - could we not turn a junkyard into a homeless motel? I mean, it would be pretty cheap to convert a vehicle into a nice little room with a bed.
- 7/23/2014 1:25:07 PM |
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this
New one. Hot off the presses. Fail again. Fail better.
- 7/8/2014 8:10:08 PM |
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summer
To me, and for some time now, the first true feeling of summer (aside from +100 temperatures) is diving headfirst off the wooden pier at my in-law’s lake house into the cold Lake LBJ water. There is first the sensation, which is a cold jolt to the face, followed by the smooth glide of your body cutting through the water, as if moving through air. You make one firm stroke with both hands that carries you further than you think it should and then pop up to the shimmering surface, to see your whole family in one swoop, standing on the pier, laughing or bobbing beside you. There is nothing that quite matches it. Perhaps only to see your children do the same.
- 5/28/2014 7:25:50 PM |
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new mexico
Meant to post this up for Mother’s Day...
Happy Mother’s Day, mom. It’s been nearly 10 years, but I still think of you often. I remember that trip to New Mexico like it was yesterday. Stayed in Albuquerque in a motel with no A/C. True story - most people won’t believe: You saved my life. I was dancing around the edge of a motel pool and didn’t know how to swim yet. Shameful thing. A kid my age not knowing how to swim. You told me I’d fall in if I wasn’t careful. You were lounging in a chair probably reading one of your Agatha Christie mysteries. And, of course - splash. And I remember, still, or maybe it’s just the memory of the memory, something I’m coloring in now, but I swear I remember lying on the bottom of the pool looking up and seeing you dive in headfirst. Your face that ghastly pool color and me, likely just about done with my last breath. You pulled me out of that pool. We went back to the motel room and watched Logan’s Run and had ice cream. You and me sitting on the bed - laughing as if that near brush weren’t something more. As if it was just part of your job. Later that summer you put me in swim lessons. Shameful thing. A kid my age not knowing how to swim.
- 5/28/2014 7:23:49 PM |
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ruin
The further you remove the representation of value from the thing itself, the more unstable the value becomes. Therein lies the explanation of every financial crisis.
- 5/28/2014 7:22:30 PM |
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dad 2.0
I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least have one entry this year.
- 12/31/2013 7:28:33 AM |
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up in the air
I was at jury selection for some retarded (yeah, I said it) trial involving a woman who slipped on the stairs outside a cookie bouquet store on 35th. She was suing b/c there was no rail to grab on to when her fat ass flew backwards on the second step. I shit you not. The bailiff came in and whispered something to the judge who, upon recollection, flipped the freak out and told everyone in the courtroom there was a terrorist attack in New York city and that we all needed to evacuate the building (this being a courthouse and all). I remember the confusion and the general sense of rising fear in the room. A kind of creeping panic. The cookie bouquet owner was on the stand answering some questions. She looked distraught beyond measure. Someone whispered something who whispered something to someone else and I caught it. Her brother was in New York city. She pulled out her phone and, I’m guessing, was frantically trying to call him. I tried to call a friend of mine in Brooklyn. Service was out. I remember the cookie bouquet owner’s face. I remember driving through traffic, desperately trying to get a hold of the pre-school my boys were at. I remember feeling like it was all up in the air. All of it. And now, eleven years on, I can’t forget. I won’t forget.
- 9/11/2012 7:27:22 PM |
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it's the application of talent that matters
Ferris Wheel.
And also, for your consideration, The Offenders.
- 9/2/2012 7:56:00 AM |
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dead letter office
Back in the saddle...
See You Tomorrow
- 2/6/2012 6:36:19 PM |
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lines
Here’s possibly the worst thing he could think to say about her: He could see what she would look like when she was old.
- 1/16/2012 6:16:57 PM |
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