Month: January 2021

Don’t believe the balls!

Don’t believe the balls!

I’ve been censored by my preferred social media platform, Tweetifried, because I tell the truth to my wonderful followers, so I must now use this space usually reserved for my weekly newspaper column of totally true stuff that a lot of people are saying is pure genius to instead share my views and important news right here as a Tweetifrication of its own. I played the Powerball last week and supposedly did not get a single number right. That is scientifically impossible and FAKE NEWS! The numbers put out by the enemies of the state in the lamestream media are […]

Staying home doesn’t fly for everyone, but it definitely does for me

Staying home doesn’t fly for everyone, but it definitely does for me

Random thoughts are liable to pop into my mind at any moment — when I’m watching a football game, when I’m driving, or when I’m supposed to be doing something important while driving, such as yielding. “Oops! Sorry. Was thinking about squirrels.” “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU! YOU’VE THREATENED MY FREEDOM TO USE THE RIGHT LANE!” “Well, again, my apologies. At least we didn’t have an accident. May blessings be upon you.” “MY TIRE TOOL’S GONNA BE UPON YOU!” “Before you do that, can I borrow your hat with the horns on it? I left my viking helmet at home.” […]

Images a dad can’t forget

Images a dad can’t forget

When our country is attacked, it’s hard to find words with the capacity to rationalize, comfort or heal. It’s difficult to speak when you’ve been punched in the gut. On Sept. 11, 2001, I was awakened by a call from the newsroom, telling me I needed to come to work immediately. I had the day off because I had my wisdom teeth cut out on Sept. 10 and then spent hours in the emergency room after fainting at dinner. I’d been looking forward to a leisurely Sept. 11. Unfortunately, any day that the first words out of your mouth are […]

Don’t stand between a guy and his grill

Don’t stand between a guy and his grill

Growing up in a small town, going to “the hardware store” meant traveling a couple of miles across the Flint River from little ol’ Oglethorpe, Ga., into the metropolis of Montezuma, Ga., population 5,000 or so back then. It might have cost a little more, but we knew the names of all the folks behind the counter. They knew what we were doing and exactly what materials we needed. Heck, they knew our pets’ names and whether we’d gone to church the previous Sunday. Times have changed, and I’m guilty like most city folks of instinctively going to the big […]