Recent conversation with Brenda.

Brenda: What would be the hardest thing for you to give up for Lent?

Me: Shooting guns.

Brenda: But you don't shoot.

Me: But I have the most realistic dreams. I rescue POW's like Stallone, I kill evil dictators with a sniper shot from a mile away like Jack Reacher, I perform quick draws and shoot the bad guy like Saturday westerns...

Brenda: You more likely kill a dozen people from the Texas Tower.

Me: Just as well I don't actually own a real gun.


Web Junkie

Steve West scours the Web searching for interest or absurdity and then shakes his head ruefully when he finds it. Read more »

Gettin' The Animals Out Of My Blog Folder

Time to clear out the animal clutter from my blog folder. Want to make your dog look really tough like the dogs from medieval times? Try some doggie armor. Go »

Such As It Is...

Best stuff I found this week. Merv's sense of humor lasted 'til the end. New Bond stamps. Go »

What'd I Step In?

Things stuck to the bottom of my internet shoe. Things not to do while wearing briefs made of beef jerky. (Besides wearing briefs made of beef jerky) Venezuelans believe children should not watch The Simpsons, offer more wholesome fare instead. Go »

Mariah and the Subtle Burn

Recent conversation with Brenda (after hearing All I Want for Christmas... again): Me: Mariah Carey beginning with "I don't want a lot for Christmas..." and then revealing she wants "you" is kind of a burn, Brenda: She could mean that she doesn't want a lot of other gifts and only wants her man friend. Go »

Random Thoughts While Stuck in Traffic

There's a serious traffic jam on the 495 Washington beltway that I happen to be stuck in. It's worse than stop & go, stop & go - it's more like stooooooop & go, stoooooooooooop & go. Trying to stay awake, my mind is wandering, giving me images and sounds. Go »

Christmas and a Lizard's Tale

One Christmas when Lauren was eight, like a lot of girls her age, wished for a pony. My backyard at the time was about the size of a Volkswagen Minibus. Despite her assurances that she would let it roam the neighborhood for sufficient exercise, I said, “Not this year,” as I pictured myself following the horse with a pooper scooper. Go »