Lately I’ve been thinking about what kind of an old man I want to be.
Even in this woke moment, the self-professed dirty old man attracts new readers.
By any measurement, this was my biggest non-academic reading assignment.
I tried all week to write a piece about actor/magician Ricky Jay and I failed miserably, several thousand words and not one worth keeping.
[The following letter was written by Corporal Otis Stafford to his in-laws. Dated July 28, 1945,
Dear T— and K—, This is a message attached to a bottle.
I was raised in a road trip household. Hitting the highway for summer vacation wasn’t uncommon when I was a kid, but I think in my family’s case it was a matter […]
The United States turns 242 this week, which is pretty impressive given her cruddy diet.
I spent a good hour yesterday drafting a Memorial Day story, and then it hit me: