“Beware of false prophets, which comes to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they’re ravening wolves.” Mathew 7:15

Donald Trump isn’t particularly worried about this election. He should be, but he isn’t. He’s done the job he set out to do. There were glitches, and people saying he was a disaster, but so what? He never ran for office expecting to do anything. Like every politician in Washington with a keen sense of self preservation, the more you say, the less you have to accomplish.

Maybe he learned this from his mentor and fixer, Roy Cohn, the right hand to…

“I don’t regret anything.” Amy Winehouse

Kachru watched the people coming into the school auditorium. Most were retired couples wearing parkas and carrying coffee cups. A heavyset reporter was there from The Edmonton Examiner. He’d tried to interview Kachru coming through the doors earlier. Kachru had politely declined. A mistake, obviously. Now the reporter sat directly in front, feet out, sweaty hair.

Late that afternoon, Kachru had brought in his slide projector and screen. There was a remote of sorts on a long electrical cord. He’d taken off his sweaters, but still wore his Pashtun vest and Wellco boots. …

“They’ve got everything for you men to enjoy…” The Village People (YMCA)

President Donald Trump doesn’t pay much attention to lyrics. His favourite song “Is That All There Is?” sung by Peggy Lee, describes watching a house burn down and turning to drink. Why does Trump like it? “It’s a great song because I’ve had these tremendous successes,” he said. “And then I’m off to the next one.”

Missing a song’s point seems to be standard with this president. It’s like there’s a little man on one shoulder doing the “daddy dance.” On the other, he’s singing something else entirely…

“My cooking was so bad, my kids thought Thanksgiving was to commemorate Pearl Harbor.” Phyllis Diller

As history describes it, turkeys were first introduced to the Thanksgiving dinner table way back in the early 1600s. No record explains exactly why the Pilgrims chose turkey for this historic feast. They weren’t the plump and juicy turkeys we know today— in fact, they were embarrassingly skinny by comparison. Then again, so were cows and sheep.

No, the choice of wild turkey remains a bit of a conundrum, although it might have been because the Pilgrim’s guests were the Wampanoag tribe.

The Wampanoag…

“Everybody’s talking at once in a hypnotic, hyper din: the cocktail party from hell.” Maureen Dowd

“Reading is 4 chumps, brotha,” Mew16 wrote on reddit, an opinion shared by many in the discussion group — and not just brothas. As one woman explained, “Maybe it was being forced to read for 12 years, and the whole thing associated with shitty teachers and shitty people and shitty memories.”

Whether “shitty” memories can account for not reading, or the content of books themselves, certainly there’s a turn-off rate. …

“I am a mediocre being, a bit cunning.” Renee Vivien

We were at the bar, having our usual Friday afternoon drink, listening to this girl complain about her friend. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, blonde, chipped front teeth. She kept saying to Jimmy Earl, the relief bartender, “Would you do that to someone?” Jimmy Earl listened, but he didn’t like this girl. When she asked if she could use the bar phone, he jerked his thumb downstairs. “Next to the washrooms,” he said.

She started going through her pink knapsack, looking for change, tossing things on the bar…

“Dear “big” girls. Don’t be afraid to get on top. If he dies, he dies.” Anonymous

I’ve got strong thumbs. Nobody realizes how strong they are until they get on my table. Some of my clients are big girls. For whatever reason, they need my strong thumbs. By the time I’m finished, they’ve probably screamed more than any other time in their lives. They’ll say afterwards, “You’re a hell of a masseuse.” Nobody in my profession wants to hear that term. Masseuses are what we call the sex end of the business. Believe me, sex is the last thing on…

“Harmony is the ultimate brotherly love.” Phil Everly

Johnny had to take his brother out to the highway again. There was no getting around it. “You’re going, Eddie,” Johnny kept saying, even with his sons begging him to let their uncle stay. “C’mon,” he was saying to Eddie, kicking him in the back. “I’ve got work to do. Move your ass.”

Eddie was sitting there cross-legged in the dirt, trying to get a cigarette going. He knew he had to go. Johnny kept telling his boys the marina couldn’t support another mouth through the winter. “You ain’t trying very hard,”…