Did you realize that November 24 marks the 100th birthday of the venerable (and still-published) comic strip “Gasoline Alley?”
“What have you done for us lately?”
Computer crashes, power outages, Y2K, prostate surgery, parenting crises … I laugh in your faces!
When I was a preschooler, one of my favorite Saturday morning TV programs was “Fireball XL5,” which followed the missions of spaceship Fireball XL5, commanded by Colonel Steve Zodiac of the World Space Patrol.
My son Gideon will not be trick-or-treating this year.
Maybe I shouldn’t share something so personal with the world, but…my love affair with books continues unabated.
I’m not a doctor. I don’t even play one in newspapers. (So, relax, Rex Morgan, M.D. But look out, big-nosed kid who likes to fly his Sopwith Camel in search of the Red Baron. You’ve got competition.)
The imperishable words “Hulk smash!” aren’t just for green super-heroes anymore.
“Stubble” is my middle name. No, not really. But I do find myself occupying that No Man’s Land…er, LOTS of Men’s Land… of not wanting a beard but not enjoying the whisker-removal process, either.
As a college freshman in the fall of 1978, I spent countless evenings camped near the TV in the dorm lobby.
Call me a nuanced curmudgeon.
When I was in school, many of my classmates were probably descended from settlers who built the town’s first log courthouse.
Like many kids, I had a dalliance with washable temporary tattoos.
It’s a drastically different world than when I was working a summertime job during college.
I have browsed umpteen garage and yard sales over the years and used to help my mother display her collectibles in her neighborhood’s miles-long event. But I did not realize that Saturday, Aug. 11, is this year’s National Garage Sale Day until I read it via “U.S. News & World Report.”
I have browsed umpteen garage and yard sales over the years and used to help my mother display her collectibles in her neighborhood’s miles-long event.
According to NBC News, the travel industry’s latest trend is the “nacation.”
Nonverbal cues ain’t what they used to be.
As a responsible pet owner, I’m usually exasperated by the human race at this point every summer.
I’m looking forward to another professionally orchestrated fireworks display at our municipal recreation center this Independence Day, but nothing can quite match my childhood memories of backyard fireworks extravaganzas with barely any adult supervision.
According to the Washington Post, at some universities, nearly 50 percent of first-year students have already screened and selected a roommate before moving into a dorm.
For your least-favorite local eatery, the headline “Grease Turns 40” might elicit chuckles of “I told you those bribes to the health inspector would pay off.”
My son thought I was kidding him, but I really am writing about the lighter side of the 20th anniversary of being downsized out of my previous “day job.”
My family has just finished an Orlando-area vacation, and while my wife is several years younger than I, it’s more blindingly obvious than ever that I’m at an awkward age as a tourist.
“Tell me something good.”
The fact that the U.S. unemployment rate is at a 17-year low does have a downside.
I’m an early riser, so I may very well watch the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle on May 19, just as I watched the wedding of Harry’s parents in July of 1981.
According to NBC News, the majority of the Washington, D.C. council as well as the mayor and the “Washington Post” are pushing a bill that would make the District of Columbia the first place in the nation to allow people as young as 16 to vote in federal elections (including presidential races).
“In spring a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of wearing out his thumbs on the keyboard.” – with apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
In my 19 years of working for a farmers cooperative, I’ve seen all types of farmers and ranchers.
Thirty-plus years ago, aunt Addie Lee dropped in on the farmhouse that my parents used for storage and family cookouts.
Much of the nation has been suffering from a cold snap of epic proportions, but there are always a few jokers who don’t get the message.
It’s a dreaded holiday tradition.
It’s beginning to look a lot like debt collectors, everywhere you go…
My son Gideon’s former elementary school awarded (and still awards) a weekly “good citizen” award to a student who does an outstanding job with teamwork, politeness, kindness, etc.
Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a single day. TEACH a man to fish and eventually someone will invent a fishing ROBOT and put your student’s butt on the unemployment line.