September 24, 2017 Dear The End of the World, How are you? I’m fine, no thanks to you.
Bobby Helms is responsible for one of the most tenacious and widespread earworms the world has ever suffered.
I’m writing this in advance of the Reno Air Races because: A) I don’t know whether I’ll have time to put this together while attending the races, and B) Who knows? Maybe
Life isn’t all music and true tales of liquor, lust, and primer gray Camaros, you know.
This is a great bootleg of a band that deserves more modern praise than they receive.
Well that was a rough couple of weeks. Fires, hurricanes, earthquakes–we have a lot of rebuilding to do.
Fiction I was heading up 95 to meet Debbie for lunch when I heard Rush talking about the storm.
What’s cooler than owning a 50 year-old album that’s never been opened and still has hype stickers on its shrink wrap? Well, lots of things. World peace, eternal youth, and bottomless cheesecake […]
Every story needs a villain.
Like every natural disaster before it, Hurricane Harvey was appointment viewing.