Would you like to dance?
A gazillion years later
would you still like to dance?
Put on high boots and a dangerous skirt?
Are you addicted to garbage
this weekend? Age inappropriate?
Will you shake that thing?
And are you … Read on Macduff...
The Scooby-Doo Conundrum
I just told my kids that Scooby-Doo has a speech defect. But now I’m not sure.
Even though the dog speaks and functions in a very human way, is he not still essentially a dog? And given that, should we … Read on Macduff...
x-post: Future fantasy headline happiness
MSBC.com and I are feeling bullish about the start of the new congress — read all about it over on edgewise.
The deer liked to race
The deer liked to race around this particular meadow. Maybe it was the grass. Or the smell of the grass. Or the smell of last year’s deer. Whatever the pull, the meadow was packed with deer, and they were running.… Read on Macduff...
Karen Dalton and the beauty
My better half gifted me with a lovely re-release of a lost gem — In My Own Time by Karen Dalton. Billie Holiday-influenced folk blues complete with three fingers of whiskey in the vocals. All covers — just more … Read on Macduff...
Welcome to Your (Doom of Clowns)
Earlier in the month I promised to deliver this here clown song, based on a line gifted to me by my son. “Welcome to your doom of clowns,” he said. Really.
Until a few days ago I thought this … Read on Macduff...
My One-Word Review of the Beatles New CD “Love”
Effortless.
(as in: far as I can tell, no actual effort went into the making of this thing.)
just fyi
I am the just fy
the optional information
the only information
you do not need
to act on me.
Have no fear old friend.
No change no motion
no response
required.
Remain as you were
more or less
absorb me … Read on Macduff...
Things I fear my six-year-old secretly likes to do
and really might well do if I left him alone in the house for twenty minutes, a partial list:
- turn on the burner, light things on fire.
- shave off all his hair, put it in the sink to clog it
Great-grandpa’s advice
Steer clear of the drunk barber. His
blade sways. He shaves shapes
in the air.