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First Posted 18-Aug-2015 This is a short one. It sort of connects to “Gazinta, Gazouta“. I’m not sure it isn’t just a repost of something I found online. If it is and I’ve ignored a proper credit to the original writer, sorry. The garbage dump in Phnom Penh, Cambodia’, ‘StungContinue Reading

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Old habits die hard. I’m trying in 2016 to break the habit of preaching. The ethic among those in recovery is to share. It’s a good ethic. This post is a fail in that regard. A couple years ago I was in love with yelling at anybody in earshot thatContinue Reading

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First Posted 10-Aug-2015 Goes into, goes out of. My vestigial 12 year old brain thought that was funny. You’ll figure it out. My inspiration for this post came to me while I was relieving myself in a public bathroom on the southbound side of Interstate 35 between Denton and Austin,Continue Reading

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First Posted 22-08-2015 Heard this one? That if we really knew somebody, knew the shame they carry, we would understand why they can’t go to church. They feel shunned. To which, I heard a response, “If you really knew me you would stop worrying about that.” Sunday mornings are aContinue Reading

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It is Martin Luther King Jr. Day as I type this on 18-Jan-2016. My dream is that we won’t wait to treat each other better. Do the small acts of kindness Mother Theresa spoke of. Be compassionate to all, always. The familiar things we all learn early and then somehow,Continue Reading

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First Posted 14-Aug-2015 I’ve spent the last 36 years living the same way. I get money, I spend money. I don’t really keep money. I treat money as if it is perishable. Sometimes, like now, I am blessed to have a job that pays well so there is a reliefContinue Reading

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It has its own logic. People are hungry. Feed them. Simple. Cops are killing young black men. Kill the cops. The 1% have too much and the 99% don’t have enough. Take from the 1% and give it to the 99%. From each according to his or her ability toContinue Reading

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In: Fiction, From the Vault

First Posted 24-Aug-2015 The origin of this is my buddy’s “Poor Player’s Hour” in his blog. He left out a few things and that’s what prompted this post.  First, the rant by the dystopian nutcase happened while I was driving for Dianne Wallace’s, “Taxi Taxi”. I’d parked myself at CenterContinue Reading

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First Posted 04-Sep-2015 Some years ago I told my buddy James Rustler about a late night run to Sacramento from Berkeley while I was a member of Taxi Unlimited. The ride itself was uneventful, the best kind as a cab driver. My fare wasn’t very talkative. All I could getContinue Reading