In the power of a Moroccan madman
We needed to get to the train station and the sign on the Marrakech bank said 46° C. My boiling brain calculated for a second…115°F? Yup. No, no way my ex-girlfriend and I… Continue reading
We needed to get to the train station and the sign on the Marrakech bank said 46° C. My boiling brain calculated for a second…115°F? Yup. No, no way my ex-girlfriend and I… Continue reading
This is not the blog I was planning to post. After the initial wave of Denial, the “No way America would ever elect that” came the other stages. Anger. “Those idiots wanted a… Continue reading
I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, this was the San Francisco headquarters for Hillary Clinton’s campaign, not some cluster of cubicles behind a crossroads gas station. It was three floors of bustling… Continue reading
I have a friend who’s been phone banking for Hillary. No one’s seen her for weeks. This weekend she’ll be frantically making last-minute calls to swing states to pull for her candidate, and… Continue reading
Daesh (ISIS), Al Qaeda, Boko Haram, Al Shabab, the Taliban, all these despicable groups afflicting our species are obsessed with suppressing and oppressing women and women’s rights. They’re disturbing to learn about, but… Continue reading
Let’s call them Brad and Linda. I met them a little while back, found them generally likeable people, some good jokes, some less-lovely behaviors, but we got along. They live in Texas, have… Continue reading
Skopje has nothing to do with the Italian verb scopare, which technically means “to sweep,” but just as “to screw” has a bit more oomph than inserting a light bulb, scopare is that… Continue reading
Election night is a weird sort of strangled Super Bowl. Only instead of a trophy the winner gets to influence the country for four years, but as spectators we just watch to see… Continue reading
Familiar pleasures of air travel: crying baby, neighbor with stanky feet, and person in the window seat with the bladder of a small woodland animal. On my way back from Seattle I was… Continue reading
I have no sense of time. Made a salad last night, went for the dressing I bought a little while ago, and found, to my dry-rucola’d dismay, that the dang thing had expired.… Continue reading