I told Spinoza that my fate wasn’t in the hands of an angry god. I would be the Henry Petroski of fermented fish. Title speaks for itself. Garum.

Banks in her infamous Cotton Club kiss with Josephine Baker. Not bad for a vulture, I thought. That scarf was the only thing I had to protect me from the sun & the vultures. Snatch

who knew me when knew what I was about. This wasn't it. My track record with 2nd bassoonists was deep into B# with picatta alegro in 5/13 time. We were in the last bars now. A bone

bloody even. The good won out. It was close though. Some of the losing party tried to reframe their loss as a strategic engagement to consider conditions on the ground. Doubletalk.

There once was a Trojan who lived in a wooden horse. He was an end of the line end of a long line of endings. Never a beginning. Always with the endings. The Trojan had a daughter.

Luthor Martin, aka Pimp Daddy Deluxx, taped his 95 Theses on the Popeye's door. It was closed. Luthor was tired of having to drive all the way over to the In N Out over on Carlton.

lyrics from Twisted Sister songs and Eve sprouts dragon wings, which lift her into the sky. "What have you done, you quack?" Adam asked Pastor Peachfuzz, but fangs have appeared

I just now learned about an AI server Talktotransformer.com which takes your prompt & the AI writes a paragraph or so to it. Looks like AI is going to put me out of work. Meanwhile

Having been the US Envoy to California during the Trump Lame Duck 100 days, Dan Better was no stranger to the wrong end of a burrito. It came as a surprise to no one when he left a

over the coals of my Stradivarius. Russian winters are deep & arrive quickly. It was the promised new Ice Age thanks to Global Warming, Inc. Global Warming was raking it in. To the

At the end, only the dead woman remembered. We remember her. For now. It wasn't impossible to get to as long as we remembered her, the dead woman. Will she be with us at the end?

Everybody knew her. Everybody knew she'd been murdered. Everybody knew where her body was. Everybody could see it. Saw it. Everybody knew who did it. The killer knew they knew. One

I wasn't into it when I said it. Nor was I interested when I heard it. I repeated it down the line without a thought to what my words would mean to the future. Or our shared past.

How keen of them to recognize me like that. From now on, I would be the first ass they would call if they needed an ass or rectum for a Royal Film Academy show. Big Boutee' would

Casablanca we called her since the day Casablanca was her first word. She had a proper name that her mother took with her when she died. Before that we’d never noticed her. It was

I invented this new service called ThatScene.info.biz.net.value.up.up.up.org. No matter what time of day or night. When you look into the app’s eye it shows the perfect scene from

Or had it come round table and I was left with same two options again. Dementia or Alzheimer’s. So much I thought I wanted to forget can still be recovered in the rear facing past.

The obvious clue was a trap. I knew that to my core. The me I was chasing would never sink to that. The me that I knew would rather be a whore than to work for donations from the

After that, it got too hot. You know what they say about the kitchen. We bugged out. Tentacles and all. An exoskeleton really protects my squishy stuffings from getting out. Or in.

He ran a steely gaze around the table as each player was dealt their cards. He was playing blindly until he learned their tell. He could work it out in fractions to the 3rd degree.