#786: Authenticity VaVOOM

May 5th, 2017 § permalink

She strode to the center of the ring, her muscles rippling under pounding stage lights that could be described as all-covering and a wrestling singlet that absolutely couldn’t.

Her foe in the faux mustache and all-too-real chest hair laughed at her, pointed and made a Trumpian chuckle-smirk to the audience. He turned to the crowd to flex again, the audience hurling boos at him as his theme song – “Escape (The Piña Colada Song)” – piped through the gymnasium.

Then the wrestling began, wedged between the dancing. » Read the rest of this entry «

#709: Vote Like a Champ in Just Six Steps

November 7th, 2016 § permalink

Voting is like improv comedy: The fact you’re unprepared is only amusing to you.

For the rest of us, those who take more than one stab at existence and who tire of any activity with a cover and two-drink minimum to watch state school theater majors laugh harder at their own jokes than the audience ever will, we like to be a little more prepared.

So in the vein of my Bare Minimum Voting Guide from the primary, a six-step plan that will get you voting like a champ in no time. * » Read the rest of this entry «

#692: The Beautiful Catastrophe

September 28th, 2016 § permalink

I thought I was meant to laugh unending.

I thought I was meant to joke and taunt, bouncing unbruised from one fiasco to another, enthusiasm unflagged. I would joke away the Bushes, the Cruz, the neverending Romneys pop pop popping up like four-year perennials.

I would win one of these days, I thought, because I was smarter, younger, more vicious, more willing to laugh and joke the crowds away. I would win because how could I not? How could I not laugh the murderers and fools out of sight by being so very damn clever?

I can’t laugh right now. I can’t laugh at what happened Monday. » Read the rest of this entry «

#648: My Life in Paper

June 17th, 2016 § permalink

I was proud of the story I wrote about the linear accelerator, although that was cut some when Fermilab never built it.

I hadn’t thought about the little girl with Down syndrome in years. What a smile she had. How proud she was of her swimming.

Oh god, the circus story. That damn elephant.

It was good to go through my life in paper. » Read the rest of this entry «

#628: Ink and Blood

May 2nd, 2016 § permalink

The Baron stood before the room. He stood in full regalia, military dress blues accented by a golden sash bandoliered across his shoulders and a white mask across his eyes.

Through that white mask, he tried to quiet the room with a glare.

“Take off the sash!” a woman in the crowd yelled for the third or fourth time.

“I told you before,” he said, gesturing to his face. “Ugly.”

The duel was about to begin. » Read the rest of this entry «

#586: The Big Guy’s Palace

January 25th, 2016 § permalink

The Blackhawks-clad diner came in two main parts. If you turned left when you came in the door, the Blackhawks-clad patrons had tables and booths. If you turned right, it was a long, thin walkable strip between wall and counter.

The big guy walked down this thin corridor without bumping into anyone. It was a suave, practiced feet.

As he walked, he boomed a question that I answered. Thankfully, I had enough patty melt in my mouth that he didn’t hear my response, considering he was talking to the Blackhawks-clad trio just past me. » Read the rest of this entry «

#314: Fear and Storage

April 30th, 2014 § permalink

I don’t care how much Prince you pipe in, storage spaces are creepy. » Read the rest of this entry «

#160: Caving the Union League Club

May 6th, 2013 § permalink

In a room the size of a hundred smaller ones, among carpeting and columns that screamed high tea, I stood inches from an Ivan Albright while a trumpeter diddled in the background. » Read the rest of this entry «

#138: Old St. Pat’s

March 15th, 2013 § permalink

As the blood pooled in my knees on the riser and the ventilation licked dry the spot of sacred water on my forehead, I smiled and recited the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory Be. I don’t believe in God. » Read the rest of this entry «

#96: Sole Dressing

December 7th, 2012 § permalink

Gently so gently, the balding man of indeterminate ethnicity traced the edges of my shoe with a wet, black brush.

He was intent on his work, on not touching the worn leather he had just buffed and burnished, evening out the sand-colored scuffs and chestnut wear into an allover rich umber.

I asked what was on the giant toothbrush gently tarring the rubber edges of my shoe. He mumbled something. I asked again.

“Sole dressing,” he said, looking me in the eye. » Read the rest of this entry «

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