An old man just shuffled past me in a green Oakland A’s t-shirt.
Sir Percival cradled his helmet beneath his metal clad arm and clanked into his son’s sleeping chamber, where young Percy lay upon his straw mattress playing Dragonslayer on his Magic Stone.®
I’m reading Lou Cannon’s President Reagan: The Role of a Lifetime, a 1991 biography of our first celebrity president.
At the beginning of each year I perform my sacred duty,
St. Patrick’s Day just came and went, but it was just another Sunday to me. It was a big deal when I was little, though,
I made the mistake last week of watching Leaving Neverland, the HBO documentary featuring two survivors of Michael Jackson’s alleged sexual abuse.
Spend enough time on social media and eventually you’ll run across the tale of the dog who pays for cookies.
Back in 1929, the Belgian surrealist René Magritte first exhibited what looked less like a painting and more like a sign hanging outside a tobacconist shop.
Social decades tend not to align perfectly with calendar decades.
It hardly seems possible to me that we’re nearly two decades into the 21st century, maybe because so little has changed.