We shot the bodies last night. Actually, they were already dead. We’re going to shoot them again today. read more
Over My Dead Body
Contaminating Racket Sports The Way The Real Thing Contaminates A Sandwich
In the 1960s, when I was but a lad, my pops was a member of the Los Angeles Athletic Club. The Club was old school personified, having been established in 1880 and occupying its spot on Seventh Street downtown for almost 100 years. Members of the LAAC have won ninety-seven Olympic medals, so while it had the appearance of a fairly exclusive men’s club, it was actually a badass sports club. Anyway, sometimes when my dad worked out he’d bring along me and my brother, and while he was working out, we’d ride the elevators and explore the Club, often ending up on the roof.
Which Dog’s Witch
Lessons From The Good Books
This is an excerpt from my recent book, Lessons From The Good Books, What a Reading Addiction Taught Me About America, Music & Sports ©2016. The “Lessons” are set off in bold type.
“Now I must tell you the worst, Tubby was shot and killed on August 31st, he behaved like a true Marine at all times. We buried him in the Marine cemetery along with other real heroes. He has a cross and his name and rank, he was a corporal.”
Tubby was part of the War Dog Program and was killed in action in 1942.
All dogs go to heaven. I have one, her name is Angie. Her coat is black and her nationality is Labrador. She’s a decorated, 2-time graduate of doggie boot camp. She can recite the Gettysburg Address and can name all the U.S. presidents in order (because I memorized both, out loud, during our walks). “I cannot stay in my chamber for a single day without acquiring some rust,” Henry David Thoreau. read more