A.G.E's Joint

Funny thing about Google searches. You start down one path and you find yourself in a world you never expected. Seems as though Turtle Boy may have been on to something. In the last several months, several writers had disappeared, one after another. One of the more puzzling was a guy named Dave, writing dispatches from the Snowy Badlands. Most people found his folksy humor endearing and his audience looked forward to his stuff every week. One day, Dave’s empty Stetson was found on the grounds of the Arboretum outside St. Paul, with no indications on where he went. No witnesses or evidence was left behind. His car was still at his residence along with all of his belongings. A missing person’s report went into the round file, since he was (supposedly) an adult and there was no indication of foul play. A rumor he was feeding loons in Lake Woebegone circulated, but no one really believed that. Nothing had come up until I stumbled on a cryptic message from the Northwoods indicating t

"Hey, Heidy and Howdy. It's Harry Handy, your randy dandy late night DJ here on WOFT, old fart's radio, 101.1 on your internet dial. A big shout out to tonight's sponsor, the domestic litigation firm of Slappey and Sadd. If he gets slappy, we'll make him sad...and on that note, more sappy holday tunes..." I clicked off the radio. Can't Christmas be over already? Every song played is super fast tempo, even "Jingle Bells." Like the stores want you to move faster, buy faster and think less. Yeah. Think less sounds about right. The older I grow, the wiser Ebeneezer sounds. Shoot, even Santa's downsized to one Reindeer and he's an undocumented Caribou chased out by the oil fields. How long have I been staring at this screen? 1:45 AM? Facebook is such a time suck. I never did get to those searches on Turtle Boy. But it was fun to find the ex's page. Looks pretty much like I expected her to, kind of pudgy and sad. Just as paranoid as

All I could was shake my head as I drove out of the parking lot. That was the craziest circus I had ever seen. Was Grim insane? The meeting really wasn't going well, but still. Makes me wonder if he isn't the Terror I had to admit the carny show was top notch. The disappearing globe was good enough to fool Penn and Teller. So, where did the Mary's and their lambs go? Gypsy Joleene is in on it, for sure. But, How? And more importantaly, why? Let me think... Six months the email came. Some nitwit wanting to tell about writers disappearing. One with nationwide significance. It sounded kind of fishy and I was about to blow him off, when the boss said they needed something for Sweeps Week. I decided I'd go ahead and hear him out. Didn't know where it would lead, but all I had was time to waste. And I'm not one to turn down a free lunch. We met at one those weird Asian places out on the Four Lane- something Hot Pot. He showed up dressed as Michaelangelo and

The light was a blur around the edges of the darkness. Growing brighter it became stabbing pain in Jerry’s eye. Lifiting his head, he unsuccessfully tried to shake off the buzz. “Jesus. Where am I?”  He looked around. It looked like a bakery freezer. Blank boxes stacked here and there. A few package wrappers discarded on the floor. Jerry rolled over and realized his legs had been bound to a table. But who ever left him here kept his hands free. Strange. The room was colder than his ex-wife's shoulder. Jerry pulled his parka tighter against him, trying to warm up. At least there was a thermos of coffee on the table, if he could reach it. He struggled to his knees and grabbed it. He took a long sip. It was cold, but did take a bit of the thirst off. Now, if he could beat this hangover. He was still trying to figure out how he got here. A message had arrived on the secured account assigning him to a project. It was vague on details, but they all were. Go to a Russian nightclub in

Boring. All these screens were just boring. Image after image of size 2, enhanced cleavage and L'Oreal LB01. These girls either use the same stylist or they have zero imagination. I guess what they say about the entertainment industry is true. It is the most conformist place out there. Damn, they even dress alike. Evening news or talk show, every one toes the line on the look, super thin and super shiny. The sets have a corporate look to them. Disgusted, I click off the video and pour another cup of mud. It didn't used to be that way. The Sixties had the California Sunshine, Dacron suits, and long hair. The Seventies were more earth tone, but you could tell Merv from Mike from Dick and Tom. There was variety. Now it is just a homogenized mass with one man, two f lavor of the month women and a set from anywhere. A mono-cultured orchard giving tasteless fruit. Outside the window, a Crab apple tree is blooming way too early . Shoot, it still the end of February an

“He’s mad, don’t you know?” Yes...I have been accused of that. Of being an overfed, long haired leaping gnome starring in his own Hollywood movie. But that was after I spilled the wine and told my stories. I never really had long hair, though. Instead of it cascading down my shoulders, it would grow into a Dorothy Hamill wedge. It added to the sumo wrestler view a lot of people had of me. It wasn’t I was fat, just awkward and bumbling. I was jealous a bit of John Schneider and his bodacious curls (which were straightened for Dukes of Hazzard), but that wasn’t really for me anyway. I was more of a sloppy schlub, high on wit and satire and low on style. My true heroes were MAD magazine’s original usual gang of idiots, who taught me nothing is what it seems, and what sounds like a weird concept can work out. Therein is the “ Method to the Madness. ” Find a concept and run with it. Maybe it will work out for you, too. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Camping on a starlit night in the back yard for her birthday was Daddy's idea. Emily and her best friend Maddie were sleeping in a tent Emily's mom helped put up. And it wasn't one of those Disney Princess tents, either. They were for babies. This tent was the one Daddy used when they went camping out in the woods. Emily loved when they did. She and Daddy would look at sticks and bugs and stuff. But Mommy would get cold and complain, then they would pack up and go home. Kind of like what Maddie was doing now. "When is your mom coming out with the choc'lit. I'm cold." Dark bangs shaking under the cap of her jacket. "I wish we had a fire. Emily shrugged. "Mommy said we would set the whole neighborhood on fire. We have a blanket. " A small camouflage blanket was sitting on the ground outside the tent. Emily picked it up and they huddled together underneath it. Their breath reflected in the porch light. Emily giggled. "A

One of the older websites out there is  Am I Annoying . It's pretty simple. Instead of saying whether the person, place or thing is hot or not, you determine is it annoying or not. I'll give you a hint. It's all annoying.

As Mary made her way down the cobblestone streets, she could help but notice how Sienna was so different than Upper Saddle River. At home, everyone locked themselves in their faux French chateaus inside gated communities. Neighbors were tolerated at best, with almost no eye contact. Here the streets were narrow and the building ancient, but there was an openness. People here went out of their way to socialize and make people welcome.    The art festival was a lucky find. The villa, as beautiful as it was, was boring. Michael was going to be tied up all day and she needed to get some air. The cobblestone streets in the city center felt like the past calling to her, memories of Shabbat. Arguments put to the side while thanks for the bounty to was raised to Adonnai . The smell of challah filled the senses and she could almost hear Grampy reciting the Kadesh, the low, guttural words booming from his flowing beard. Warmth and nostalgia were good things sometimes.   So many years h

I want a tiny house On tiny wheels With dollhouse furniture To escape the world I want to pack up an old, beat up suitcase Take a bus and look out over the Mississippi Then look down and see the suitcase missing Eat Red Beans and Rice With Beignets and Coffee for desert Listening to old buskers Sing from their soul To be lost in the maze until the swamp runs out Where the hurricanes thrash hardy inhabitants Flipping middle fingers in response. The edge of America. Is where I want to be. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Topic (lost in the maze)- Rutger Siskens Pic- Dahlia Ramone Pic guesses: Dollhouse (in blog), Tiny house (in blog), suitcase (in blog), On the go, well traveled, tiny town, small flat. The full quote is from the movie Tightrope (1984) (courtesy IMDB.com): Wes Block : Twenty-eight years ago I borrowed 40 dollars from my father, packed up an old, beat up suitcase, took a bus and came here. I w

Wherefore in the name of God the All-powerful, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, of the Blessed Peter, Prince of the Apostles, and of all the saints, in virtue of the power which has been given us of binding and loosing in Heaven and on earth, we deprive him and all his accomplices and all his abettors of the Communion of the Body and Blood of Our Lord, we separate him from the society of all Christians, we exclude him from the bosom of our Holy Mother the Church in Heaven and on earth, we declare him excommunicated and anathematized and we judge him condemned to eternal fire with Satan and his angels and all the reprobate, so long as he will not burst the fetters of the demon, do penance and satisfy the Church; we deliver him to Satan to mortify his body, that his soul may be saved on the day of judgment. [1] The canticle above (translated from the Latin) is the end of the “Anathema Formulae”, the original Bell, Book and Candle rite. It is not a long piece, maybe 15 or 20

In an old cemetery on the outskirts of town, a buried couple is resting contently. From time to time, their conversation is heard through the light breeze. “A lovely night, Mary.” The man had a low nasally voice. “Air crisp with the coming cold. Look at the magical colors in the leaves. And the moon, when have we seen it so full?” A birdlike voice replied. “It’s beautiful, Liam, so full and illuminating. Almost like our first night together, remember?” A small chuckle. “Halloween and you were dressed as a the good witch, all in white.” “And you were the Vampire, ready to bleed me blue .” She turned toward her husband. “You asked for my hand and I gave you my heart. Mmm...such a wonderful night.” They gazed contently over the field. Liam turned to his mate. “Mary, may I say I've never wanted another woman?” “You are still so sweet.” She paused, “I certainly never needed another man. Even old, you were clever and reliable. I'm so thankful we

Eddie’s is gone. The place where wayward bound gearheads turned wrenches on hoopties. Gone to the whims of commercial development. Oh, it had to happen. After all, Eddie himself passed on to the great car show in the sky a few years ago. And the wives of would be mechanics and racers were relieved. You see, there’s no such thing as fun for the whole family, you know.      We spent our weekends in friends’ carports, 12 packs and parts scattered next to our rusted out hulks. We pounded and cussed at cranky bolts. Screamed when flames erupted out of throttles. Car virgins getting their first hot oil baths were always good for laughs. It was a simpler time. There were no OBD codes to figure out. Engine bays had room to work. A universal joint elbow was rarely required to get to a key bolt. Stuff was done out of pure obsessiveness, some cosmetic, most mechanical. It was how you got to the top of the street pecking order cruisin’ down Roswell Road.   A lot of