Charlie is useless Boogaloo Couch Slug. He howls like a wounded toddler at the suggestion that the empty bag of Cheetos belongs in the trash. Then he’ll petulantly ask you to do that for him. The empty Chinese Takeout containers? Ain’t there people for that? Charlie the Boogaloo Couch Slug occupies space in this blog… Continue reading Boogaloo Couch Slug
In which Inger says she found a finger in the abandoned Cadillac Escalade that was in front of my house. And there is breakfast.
Stolen Cadillac? Not really a story. Escalade with suitcases containing cocaine, cash, and clothes? Better. No pulse, just a finger on the back seat? Yes!
All Needs Are Rights If you are underage and your survival depends on adults, many things feel like God given rights. To be fair, much is a right because two people had sex and here you are. Beyond the age of ?12? or so, beyond puberty when it is possible for you to procreate and… Continue reading Out of the Mouth of Boys
Turns out that tearing up your own neighborhood doesn’t move the needle elsewhere.
Let me explain the title of this piece. This aphorism, “secrets have a way of getting out,” was in my head as I watched our local TV station report the march on Broad Street because Dumpf was inaugurated. Dumpf’s opposition is desperate for a secret that will kill his ability to be President. The secret… Continue reading Secrets
Inger’s first appearance on the blog was last August when I started a kurfuffle for tossing about the word “rape” too casually for some. I didn’t name her then. I described the incident in a post titled, “It Was Rape“. I never named the girl who threw herself at the mercy of the guards a… Continue reading Inger