“Fluffy isn’t moving, Owen.”

“Whadaya mean?”

“I think he’s dead.”

“Nah, he’s just sleeping soundly.”

“No, Owen, he’s dead, as in not among the living; not drawing any breath; ceasing to exist-dead.”

Owen rattled his paper, folded it and with mocked effort and a heavy grunt, lifted his thick body off the tattered easy chair that had become attached to his ass since he’d retired from the NYPD. Read the rest of this article »

Is there any more stirring moment than a Friday afternoon for the working man or woman? People who start Monday with the growl of the proverbial lion with a thorn in their paw on Friday are smiling gently as refined creatures of almost angelic proportions. They are at their happiest when the weekend looms!

Actually, who we are on Monday is a good gage of where we are as a society. On Friday we fulfill the potential of the human race and engage one another as we would like to be treated. That is, until we leave the office. Then out on the highway the carnage begins. Who gets somewhere the fastest to reclaim the lost part of their life can look ugly especially at the beginning of the weekend. Only the drive to the office Monday morning could be worse. Read the rest of this article »

Dear Mr. Fargo,

I am working really hard so that someday I will have time to be creative and play my flute as much as I want. That is my dream. The problem is I decided to take a job at Taco Bell to make ends meet. And now I haven’t been able to get in any music lately.

I also don’t feel very creative because I smell like a taco. Plus, it’s hard for me to get inspired wearing this silly clown uniform. I have to burn incense all the time because I have stomach problems. I feel like I am going to turn into a bean burrito!!!

Will, do you think I will lose my creativity? Should I quit this job, live poor, and maybe homeless, for the sake of my music?

Signed,

Love to Toot… in Berkeley

Dear Love to Toot… in Berkeley, Read the rest of this article »