Jesus the Vampire's Landing Spot

  This should be good for a few laughs.

 Of all the signs one faces and occasionally reads whenever they enter a business, the ones that say things like "We Reserve the Right to Refuse Service to Anyone" and "No Loitering" are usually among them. They are also among the things that seem to be falling victim to that hideous disease known as political correctness. Call me old fashioned, but if someone is acting like an obnoxious asshole, they are usually asked to leave. If they walk into a place and occupy space without ordering anything, they are usually asked to leave. If they smell so fucking bad that vultures are circling overhead, they are usually asked to leave. Not any more. Unless you’re a straight white male, especially one wearing a MAGA hat or anything and everything even remotely resembling one, the world is now both your oyster and your toilet. As long as you’re not an ESWM (Evil Straight White Male, as if there are any other kind), laws and customs in place for hundreds, if not...

It's been said that the USA is "the land of the free and the home of the brave" and a country where you have numerous freedoms that are conducive to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." Very good, but why is it that I’m constantly surrounded by people who are trying to tell me what to say and what to do? It’s increasingly becoming the land of the cowed and home of the paranoid who seem to be content with death, despair, and the pursuit of medication. The 50's were a time of the Red Scare, and one had to be very careful what they said and did, or even the mere appearance of it lest they be tagged a communist. James Thurber wrote a good one on that topic: The Very Proper Gander Not so very long ago there was a very fine gander. He was strong and smooth and beautiful and he spent most of his time singing to his wife and children. One day somebody who saw him strutting up and down in his yard and singing remarked, "There is a ve...

I’ve been in the rat race since I was about 11-12 years old. Growing up in poverty, money of course was always lacking, but unlike many of the other kids in the ‘hood, I supplemented various petty criminal activities (The Great Copper Heist remains my greatest triumph) with doing odd jobs in a more-or-less honest way. There was an employment program for at-risk youths like me which usually involved the destruction of various fauna and flora and moving heavy, unwieldly objects through tight spaces and across broken terrain. Most of my “employers” were old women who were pleasant and polite for the most part but very stingy when it came to the dough. In any case, it was all cash under the table. When I was 16 years old, I was “lucky enough” to be hired by a local fast-food joint for a part-time job flipping burgers and deep frying various things. I was told to start at 5:00 PM the coming Friday. Not so luckily, my new job coincided with a Grateful Dead concert playing at the ...