How can you decide what you’re going to eat when you’ve not even looked at the damn menu yet?
Is every life a precious gift from God? Who is it okay to snuff? Who, not?
Two hardworking local couples have turned an old warehouse on Smelter Avenue into a lovely new restaurant-bar called The Queen of Cups. The food and drink are fanciful, hip and very good.
In these odd days and changing times, it seems the line between the sexes has been badly blurred – all but erased.
The very same things that attract you to me (and, of course, me to you) will potentially drive us both nuts. It’s part of Odd’s Plan.
Barbaric evil never ends unless it is opposed. To let monstrosity prevail without forceful response will murder not just you and me but, also, self-respect and hope.
There’s nothing you can’t lie about, and, if you do it with enough panache, you’ll be a magnet/hero to most clueless nincompoops.
It seems like almost everyone, on either side of the divide, has drifted past the point of compromise or of even considering what their opponents want.
Not wanting to be governed by my own knee-jerk bias, I sat down to watch the trial. And, for the first time ever, I was wrong.
One truly admirable aspect of indigenous culture is its general, humble sense of mutuality.