Tough to swallow
I realize we’re all trying to be cool and edgy these days, and that even a hospital is scrambling for attention, and may feel the need to shout, “Hey — look at me!”
I realize we’re all trying to be cool and edgy these days, and that even a hospital is scrambling for attention, and may feel the need to shout, “Hey — look at me!”
I got a call Thursday morning from the owner of a local manufacturing company who offered to cover the full cost of wheelchair modifications for the disabled Gulf War veteran I wrote about Wednesday.
I can’t say that Len Kluge and I were friends exactly, but we were solid soul mates when it came to one particular subject: baseball.
Whenever I wrote about the splendid spectacle, I could count on a passionate, and often poetic, response from Kluge, the local theater icon who died last week at the age of 63.
Help me out here: Is the phrase “foreign-sounding name” politically incorrect? Xenophobic? Barbaric?
I’m catching flak for using it in a recent column about people falling for a pitch from a company offering to provide copies of property deeds for an exorbitant fee.
After the Ingham County Register of Deeds gave me a list of people who ordered copies of deeds from National Deed Service Inc., I observed that it included a “disproportionate number of foreign-sounding names.”
My point? That new arrivals to the U.S. might be more vulnerable to letters blurring the lines between official government agencies and opportunistic businesses.
On Independence Day weekend, you can’t go wrong with a cute kid and a flag.
What do you think of those spontaneous shrines that spring up in places — on roadsides mainly — where somebody has met a violent end?
Judy Matthews of Okemos calls them “pathetic.”
No tornado. No unappetizing agricultural aromas. Not a drop of rain until midnight — and even then it was a shower that couldn’t make a handkerchief wet, let alone a blanket.
The tent stayed up. The mosquitoes stayed dead. The heat and humidity of previous days stayed away. The food drew raves. The DJ and bartender were congenial …
And, oh yeah, a marriage began.
L-R: My younger daughter, Caitlin (bridesmaid); my younger son, Benjamin (best man); the bride and groom (Roxanne and Justin: the bride's sister, Rachael (maid of honor) and groom's best bud, Jeff Struck (groomsman).
It’s crunch time. When next we meet, fellow bloglodytes, I’ll be an official father-in-law.
How long will the average office worker wait in line for a one-dollar sandwich?
Indefinitely, I guess.
Regarding the fire at Discount Dave’s …
You may have noticed that while fire officials have concluded it was “intentionally set,” they stop short of calling it arson.
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