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Week 466: Greatness Schmerateness; Five New Stories and Dueling Old Lists

When I was in high school A Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin was considered the greatest rock song (greatest as in “progressive”–whose heyday was from the mid-sixties through the mid-seventies). Anyway, that’s what the guys on the FM radio said. At the start of this month (fifty years later, on the station that’s always playing where I work) Seattle’s “Home of Classic Rock,” KZOK, again voted it number one (narrowly edging out Bohemian Rhapsody, which finished second for the fifth year in a row). For the record, the Queen song is truly an innovative thing–it blew minds when it came around in 1976; and to be honest, I have always disliked Stairway. Fairly or otherwise I associate it with the slacker in an army coat who stank of weed and sat behind me in Social Studies class. He always fell asleep and I had to whack him on the head with exam papers when it was time to pass them back. A minor annoyance in my life, yet I have yet to forget it.

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Week 464: Happily Never After and Antisocial People Have Feelings Too

Happily Never After

I cannot help but knock feel good fiction. It reminds me of Heaven, which no one has ever described to my satisfaction. From what I have seen, Heaven looks like an eternal installment of Songs of Praise (I thought the USA had a monopoly in the department of hokey religious programming, but the UK has once again exposed my ignorance).

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Week 462: Rule 17; Necessary Words; A to Z of Needless Words

Well here we are, the holidays behind us, in a brand spanking New Year, which, in my eyes, already looks as fresh as a recently widowed elderly French rent boy cruising the cafes in search of a breathing benefactor. But to those of you who insist on at least benign, if not kind or P.C. expressions–well, happy new year to you and many more I am sure.

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Week 460: Terminating The Tree With Extreme Prejudice and Welcome to the Holiday Rerun Fest

Fang and Rags circa 1972

Well here we are, Christmas. Today I choose to remember it well. My family used to include a Dachshund-Chihuahua mix named “Fang” who joined the team when I was in sixth grade (named after Phyllis Diller’s fictional husband). Fang was a fairly peaceful little guy but he hated Christmas trees. Every year he would attack the damn thing late at night at least once. His partner in crime “Rags,” a tiny Rat Terrier, would encourage Fang with little barks, but feign innocence when the light came on.

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458: Personality Issues; Beautiful Losers and Winners

Personality

Hypocrisy and altruism stop at roughly the same point in a person. Although finally copping to your own rottenness and experiencing exhaustion at the highest level of do-goodishness you are capable of are not the same thing, both terminate close enough to the center of a person to form a picture.

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Week 456: Black and Blue Christmas

It was Thanksgiving in the United States this week. It used to be a major holiday until the monstrosity called Black Friday relegated Thanksgiving to the holiday second division.

Growing up, I recall the day after Thanksgiving being a busy shopping day, but it certainly was not more important than the holiday nor did anyone camp out in front of Kmart awaiting the doors to open at hell o’clock the next morning. The only downside of the holiday was spending time with relatives that you did your best to avoid all the other days of the year–but our friend alcohol usually solved that, one way or another.

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Week 454: The Sensitive Side of Evil and One, No, Make That Three Special Announcements

Sensitive Side

I believe that there should never be violence of any kind directed at a child. But that presents a problem. There’s neither intelligent discourse nor diplomatic give and take with a two-year-old individual who considers it perfectly reasonable to shit her pants rather than heading to the bathroom while something she wants to watch is on TV. You cannot spank this person (not that you’d want to) nor can you take any disciplinary action that someone out there somewhere won’t find objectionable.

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Week 452: It’s All a Conspiracy; The Real Things and X Marks the File

The sixtieth anniversary of The Kennedy Assassination is rapidly approaching. It also marks the sixtieth anniversary of my memory because 22 November 1963 is the first certain date I remember (although I hold what are most likely older visions). It is also the sixtieth anniversary of the conspiracy theories that have dogged the event since.

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Week 450: Halloween Memories and Horror Heroes

The Caramel Apple Orchard

Although I will probably have another Saturday post closer to Halloween, it is on my mind now. And since all my other current ideas have the charm of razor bladed apples, I will go with the cheerier topic.

When I was growing up Halloween was mainly for kids, but over the years it has been taken over by The Failure to Launch Generation. I was one of those children who put next to no effort into a costume. I was goods oriented; people were giving out candy no matter how shoddy I looked. So I’d get one of those cheap witch masks (the kind that always got sweaty and smelled like a runny nose after about a half hour of wearing), don a dark blanket for a cape and carry a whisk broom, which inevitably went missing early. The sack was the important thing. And I took the biggest one I could find–usually a pillow case.

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WEEK 448- Bulking Up; Another Fine Week; Annoying TV Characters

Andy

Now that it is officially autumn, Andy and Alfie the Feral Cats are bulking up for winter. Well, actually only Andy, because Alfie is already beefy as it is. He’s a rarity, a Feral Cat who has a double chin. Andy, however, changes his body type with the season. During the warm months he sheds his long coat and becomes lean and ripples with muscles. Come September he begins eating twice his normal amount and by the time November rolls around he looks like a fuzzy Tapir.

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