The following paragraph is the opening of a op-ed in today's New York Times. It is by Kenneth C. Davis, who is also the author of the seminal, groundbreaking work Don't Know Much About History: Everything You Need to Know about American History but Never Learned"Dorset, Vt ( Read more... )

After hours--nay, days--of procrastination, I find myself in my dimly lit dining room/office at 8:39 p.m, twelve or so hours from deadline, having just composed the first sentence of the lesser of the two stories due tomorrow ( Read more... )

I thought of going into the cadaver trade, but it would have cost me an arm and a leg to get started.


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If you want to see a movie that's like Indiana Jones but is neither as fun nor as clever or exciting but has loads more saccharine in the human relationships, then by all means, go right now and see Hidalgo.

Listen up children and you will foster
a just dislike for Old Paul Auster.Once upon a time, a world-famous author was sent down from his castle in the land of Undeserved Celebrity to walk to and fro in the land and read from his latest book to peasants and princes alike. He was tall and good-looking, with silver-gray hair and a dark, intense look ( Read more... )

See, what'd I tell ya?
Maureen Dowd on The Passion and gay marriage
(you'll need a NYTimes online subscription to read)

I have not seen Mel Gibson's new film about the death of Christ. I'm not sure I want to. Before I begin, let me say I'm not protesting the creation or distribution of the movie. I am protesting mainstream Christianity's unqualified support for the film, the church hype, if you will ( Read more... )

Though there have been many worse occurences in our neighborhood, the first time I called 9-1-1 was to report what appeared to be a very loud domestic dispute between two people who (both?) live in the building next door. A black man's voice at fever pitch, a childlike voice screaming like a wounded dog, a woman's voice, and loud banging, like ( Read more... )

For a short time, I will post here the last column I wrote as the Insomniac that was never published because the Magic Bullet was lain to rest by its editor. Enjoy, if possible.

THE INSOMNIAC’S EIGHTH OR NINTH OR POSSIBLY FORTY-SEVENTH
KNOWN INSTALLMENT, ENTITLED:

“And So Another Year Inched Down Our Leg and Was At Last Shaken Onto the Toe of ( Read more... )

In my ongoing search for a period of literature to cite as my "favorite" and in doing so build a stronger identity with which to impress people, I am examining various periods and discussing their merits and shortcomings.

Tonight: Postmodern American Fiction, as exemplified in the coiffure of:


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