We Are The Good Guys

-orginally published in Crooked Lullabies, 3/24/13.-to my son, Uri. We are the good guys. We are the merrymakers dancing among the fires of the apocalypse. We are the heretics screeching from the bell tower above the smoke plumes. We are the carousers laughing while the pharaoh chokes. I’d spent nine months imagining my reaction the … Continue reading We Are The Good Guys

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The Sculptor

-originally published in Crooked Lullabies, 8/7/16. -to my wife, Kait. She is young. She is an artist. She has boundless dreams and steady hands. The clay is fresh. The clay is moist. The clay is shapeless. She places the clay on the wheel and presses the pedal that makes it spin. The clay is squishy … Continue reading The Sculptor

The Vultures Salivates On Your Patriotism

Why do so many conservatives regard Obama with such wrath? Evidence of the blind hate of Obama is too pervasive, from the highest office to the most-rural voter. Within twenty seconds of taking the Oath of Office, President Trump took an executive hatchet to heaps of Obama-orchestrated legislation—sans litigation, contemplation, or deliberation. Consequences to the … Continue reading The Vultures Salivates On Your Patriotism

Pink Gloyd And The Endless River…Of Scarves, Marbles And Fake Backstage Passes.

-originally published on Crooked Lullabies, 10/12/14. am a Pink Floyd completest. If the band officially releases any licensed product—music product, I mean—I feel compelled to hastily purchase said product. Frankly, this compulsion is a curse. Why? Besides spending nearly every dime earned as a teenage stock clerk at Kmart on imported bootlegged concerts and rare … Continue reading Pink Gloyd And The Endless River…Of Scarves, Marbles And Fake Backstage Passes.

Raised On Boring Workaholic Athletes Who Happen To Be Super White

-originally published on Crooked Lullabies, 8/12/14. The field correspondent from ABC’s Good Morning America asked 10-year-old me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I saw my reflection in the lens of the hulking television camera bearing down from above; I had a burly moustache and spit chaw, while clad in mid-80’s Phillies home pinstripes. … Continue reading Raised On Boring Workaholic Athletes Who Happen To Be Super White

Don’t Give Me Reason To Ghost Ball Punch Your New Husband

-originally published on Crooked Lullabies, 6/9/14. Last Saturday evening Kait and I took a stroll through Calvary Cemetery in Greenfield. Along the bend near the main entrance, beside the newly built three-story mega-mausoleum, I noticed a large weathered tombstone with the last name BUTERA embossed across the front. (all names have been changed to protect … Continue reading Don’t Give Me Reason To Ghost Ball Punch Your New Husband