I was resting at home when Marshbaum called to ask if I wanted to go with him to look at the lettuce. “The supermarket’s got lettuce for less than two bucks a head,” he said enthusiastically. “What’s so unusual about that?” “Because it’s going to be extinct in a few weeks.” “You’re buying up lettuce
With more than a foot of snow, sleet, and ice falling over much of the nation, the television news teams went into overdrive. This may be an accurate description of one of those minute-by-minute broadcasts. “I’m Harry Hansom. Co-anchor Polly Prattle just called. Her car slid into a ditch about eight miles from the studio.
Fewer people know the names of the recent Nobel laureates than the starting quarterbacks for Division I college teams. To find out why, I went to Green Valley College where the regional chief accreditor, unable to find a tailgate party, was grilling the president. “How’s your football team doing this season?” was the first question.
It’s Father’s Day, and that means the Great White Republican Hierarchy in Washington smells burnt charcoal and is ready to barbeque some Democrats. Because Father’s Day is special, the Republican-proposed Sequester is waived, and there is no budget limit for the day’s food and frivolity. It’s warm this Father’s Day, but the Republicans aren’t complaining
I was pushing the deadline, desperately flipping through newspapers and magazines, trying to find a news hook upon which to hang this week’s column. Dejectedly, I surfed the Internet. Maybe a new game addiction would help me forget my writer’s block. Maybe I could learn which Hollywood celebrities are taking orders from space aliens. Maybe
Since corporations are people, it stands to reason that houses are people too, and hence eligible to run for president, right? (Just…just go with it, okay?) At least one set of Occupy activists thinks this isn’t such a bad idea, and they’ve started a Facebook group for that very purpose: To help revitalize the Occupy
It’s the beginning of April, and that means I just finished celebrating New Year’s Eve, and will soon begin shopping for Valentine’s gifts. In a month or two, I may even get around to toasting St. Patrick. It’s not procrastination, it’s just that I’m a Pennsylvanian, and the state encourages me to be behind the
There will be some nomenclature, some rhetorical subdivision, some dreaded categorization and definition in what follows. Unless you’ve never had good sex, you’ll agree that sometimes, drawing lines is good. Lines like “good sex” and “bad sex.” I had just finished giving the Duchess of Hardcore Activists the drilling she’d asked for. It had been
“Hola, Amigo! Pack your bags, we’re going to Mexico!” bubbled Dr. Franklin Peterson Comstock III, faux physician and money-maker. “Yeah, I could use a decent vacation,” I replied, figuring he’d pay for both of us since he had just set the world record for the most nose jobs in a 24-hour period. “What vacation?” he
The stupidity is getting harder to find. More Americans embrace the Occupy movement, fewer people are repeating the same stupid lines about how the movement is incoherent or its participants are lazy, and the dispersal of occupiers from base locations to general nomadism has made them less of a target, both physically and rhetorically. Still,