I’m tired of reporting about mass shootings of innocent people. I mean, anymore we all have become numb to this madness. Politicians either don’t or can’t do anything about this. Obviously, they are weak old men and women who rather put out press releases and promising something must be down someday.
Tag Archives: Writing
End of an Era
There was a building years ago on East Sprague in Spokane that catered to the sex industry, calling itself Déjà vu, an adult dance club, where as my son in law described so eloquently Sunday morning was a haven for all things bad.
I’m So Tired of This
I’m so tired of people. I’m sure you my loyal readers feel that way too. I’m not just talking about politicians who could care less about us, but rather things such as guns, oil, lobbyists and the corporate big wigs and shareholders. No
My First Review of a “Masterpiece”
Sometime back just before Christmas I saw an article about Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer. The article made me curious about what exactly made this book so great. I remember my college professors pushing “masterpieces” down our collective throats.
A Knight Crime
Johnny Knight had a serious drug habit. A habit so bad it cost him his acting career. Twelve years after he starred in a successful television comedy, he presumably had his life turned around.
Roads From Tennessee: Final Day
He appeared happy and thanked me. I then gave Terry, Greg’s wife a hug and went to the pickup, threw my suitcase and laptop inside and we were off to Memphis to fly back to Spokane. The road trip back was …
Roads From Tennessee: Day 6
It’s a Baptist church in Corinth, Mississippi. It’s a large building that Greg informed me could hold well over a thousand worshippers. We parked nearby and Terry got onto a wheelchair that Greg provided her from the back area of the Kia SUV she had bought a while back.
Book Review
In Schellhammer’s novel, an elderly serial killer chronicles an alarming string of murders he’s committed over the course of decades.
Crapped Out
Bob had no idea what town this was that they stopped in front of a building whose lights and neon flashed and buzzed like a swarm of bees. He looked at the site, staring at it, willing it to disappear as snow fell steadily. The sign showing “Treasure Island Resort and Casino” appeared like a siren call.
Night Fear: Part 2
“I guess, what kind of game, Xanadu?” “I ask you a question about yourself, and you answer truthfully. Then you do the same, ask me a question and I answer truthfully.” The thought of this both intrigued and frightened me.
Jerry Schellhammer 