When I finally did get to the office, good old Dorothy was whistling a merry tune and banging away on her computer like there was no tomorrow. She looked so calm and at peace and happy. I, on the other hand, looked like a fugitive from an off-Broadway revival of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She greeted me like she had heavily makeup-ed men explode through her front door wearing pajama bottoms with a tie and no jacket every day.
Ever have the feeling that you picked the wrong decade to try to get and stay healthy, focused, connected and relatively substance free?
On the way home from my business-world triumph, I purchased a bottle of a reasonably potable vintage and climbed up to the roof of my apartment to celebrate. Kind of a “Top of the World, Ma” moment. Or was it “King of the World”? I think “Top of the World” might have been what Edward G. Robinson yelled right before he got shot to death. That is totally not the mood I was in. Or so I thought. Continue reading
The next morning, as I sat there with all the other vibrant-thread-to-the-rich-tapestry-adding drones, I began to wish that I was just a little bit fonder of having my nose broken by large black men.
In the epic pages that follow, I will weave a tale of a love so pure and transcendent, that angels will have to dab tears from your soggy cheeks as you read. Your heart cockles may also become exceedingly warmed, so wearing a non-flammable shirt or blouse is advised. The majestic pallets of dazzling color, that can ordinarily only be seen on the Hi-Def National Geographic Channel, may seem drab in comparison to the blindingly exotic world I shall paint with mere words. Prepare thyself. The powerful, nay, volcanic dénouement that I will unleash will leave you physically drained and emotionally spent. And you might also want to procure a snack, because once you start reading this sucker, you’re not going to want to put it down.
Okay, you’ve been warned. My obligations, as a responsible author, have been fulfilled.
Now we can begin.
When this showed up in my ‘Memories’ on Facebook today, I had to remember to start breathing again after I saw it peering at me from my Facebook Timeline.
Editor’s Note: An annual event for boys and girls who believe in rabbits laying eggs, Spiral Cut Ham, and dressing up for a parade. Originally posted in 2015 but with some minor changes, expect this column to run every year on Good (why is it good…everything is closed) Friday. Yay Jesus! …and pass the mashed potatoes.
It’s that time of year again.
Get out your traditional Chocolate Bunny Shot Glass and bottle of Easter Tequila, put on your Wooden Cross brand Easter Bunny Onesie, put the dog out, and lock the kids in the basement.
It’s time to get your Jesus on….
Bullseye Records of Canada
