Voting with a vengeance
An act that I have perversely enjoyed for most of my life lost much of its luster a score of years ago
Bill Kauffman
Tuesday
Monday
Detroit detour
We took a side trip to Sonny Bono’s hometown en route to a birthday party in Indiana
Saturday
An LA adventure
Our every visit is scored by songs and films and words disgorged by the world’s entertainment factory
Tuesday
Keeping Syracuse time
This year, to celebrate my wife’s birthday, I showed her a traffic light
Tuesday
The downfall of Niagara Falls
The city, not the waterfall, which remains a source of utter befuddlement
Monday
The selfishness of rich socialists
Albert Brisbane somehow avoided sharing the wealth with his neighbors
Thursday
Who was the most right-wing member of the Beat Generation?
On the Abbeys and the Beats
Thursday
A day in DC
The Jefferson Memorial still gives off a far better vibe than the Potomac anthills in which the self-important Get Things Done
Monday
Six degrees of Batavia
I guess I’m just two degrees removed from Lime Jell-O fruit salad
Thursday
A eulogy for the Democrats of yore
Remember the last invigorating spasm before the body of the party achieved corpsehood?
Sunday
Hoosiers of New York
On a March day in 1991, I watched a bittersweet rural New York version of ‘Hoosiers’ play out
Monday
Rum, Rome and rebellion
Men and women of the working class, Catholic or not, are arraigned by progressive yappers for being socially retrograde
Monday
Mark Twain in Buffalo
Mark Twain would be hopelessly out of favor with both wings of the modern duopoly
Thursday
Blues for Jimmy Duncan
Jimmy Duncan is a man who knows his place, which is one of the highest compliments I can give
Monday
I was on the floor in ’74
It’s hard to believe, but New York was a competitive state then
Wednesday
What’s in a name?
I pour myself a tumbler of rotgut and settle in with the names, these glorious names
Thursday
Rules for anarchists
American anarchism has always been a literary conceit more than a political (or anti-political) program
Friday
Coffee with Coleen
Few if any breakfasts equal those I’ve consumed at Coleen’s Kitchen
Wednesday
In the footsteps of Shoeless Joe
Greenville’s favorite son is the poetically tragic Shoeless Joe Jackson, the illiterate millhand whom Babe Ruth called ‘the greatest hitter I had ever seen’
Wednesday
Thelonious Monk deserves the last note
The mural painted on my envisioned Thelonious Monk Alley would feature images of little Thelonious in his fireman’s cap, surrounded by firemen, and the adult Thelonious at the piano
