Nothing to Say
I’m a jack of all trades, master of none. It’s my epitaph, along with “Yet Another Patron Saint of Mediocrity.”
I’m a jack of all trades, master of none. It’s my epitaph, along with “Yet Another Patron Saint of Mediocrity.”
If we are to have another contest in the near future of our national existence, I predict that the dividing line will not be Mason and Dixon’s but between patriotism and intelligence on the one side, and superstition, ambition and ignorance on the other.
“Instead of “Thank you for your service,” try, “We’re sorry you had to expend your blood, sweat, tears and toil to clean up our monumental failings.” Every time you meet one of the dwindling numbers of WWII veterans (and those of all the other magnificent little American wars we’ve fallen into), keep your mouth shut and your brain focused on peace. These “Greatest Generation” folks answered the bell and won the fight. We might not be as blessed next time.”
I called Monday morning and the news was what I thought—but with an unexpected twist
I have a malignant carcinoma on my toe…type is Kaposi’s Sarcoma.
“FRICKIN’ HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD! JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH! POPE PAUL VI AND ALL THE SAINTS! AND DEAR GOD WHY ARE ALL THESE WOMEN IN EXPENSIVE ULTRASUEDE DRESSES RUNNING UP AND DOWN THE AISLES SCREAMING THEIR FOOL HEADS OFF???!!!!!”
“To me, as a gay boy, hugging another boy was perfectly natural. It always has been, it always will be. I always felt instinctively somehow that people would disapprove and say I was naughty. And I always felt instinctively that I knew what I wanted and I was going to have it and all those disapproving people could just go suck eggs and pound sand. Even at the height of the worst spiritual and sexual repression that Oklahoma and its churches could dole out, my inner belief has always been the same. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’ve known who I am and what I wanted since I was at least five. And everyone else who is not onboard with that can go over Niagra Falls without a barrel.”
“Not only is it hilarious, it has fabulous midcentury (ugh, that word) interiors, jokes only librarian/book/research nerds understand, an awesome supporting cast including EMERAC and Kate gets to get blotto and talk about the “Mexican Avenue Bus” (the Lexington Avenue Bus, that is).”
“Instead of “Thank you for your service,” try, “We’re sorry you had to expend your blood, sweat, tears and toil to clean up our monumental failings.” Every time you meet one of the dwindling numbers of WWII veterans (and those of all the other magnificent little American wars we’ve fallen into), keep your mouth shut and your brain focused on peace. These “Greatest Generation” folks answered the bell and won the fight. We might not be as blessed next time.”
“Many states whose sovereignty is threatened are now finally waking up to the danger. But is it perhaps already too late to do anything about the seemingly over-mighty corporations?”
“What’s our death toll up to in this week’s boutique pay lots of money and die fashionably sweepstakes? 19?”
“The information presented is stark and perhaps unsettling.”
“The film itself is fairly representative of the period and shows how far ahead of her time Garbo was … that she could shine in spite of rather stilted dialogue, in a non-native language shows just how great an actor she was at the height of her career. It wasn’t bad, and I might have another look under certain conditions, but I probably wouldn’t buy it for the DVD collection, unless Criterion gets hold of it.”
It’s been TWELVE (12)!!! years??! Holy cow. In spite of all the special dogs (Feargal, Fergus, Fred, Roux, Sascha, Bosco, Goose, Tessa and now Charlie) we’ve had since Bayley crossed the Rainbow Bridge, the first dog who enters your life always leaves the most special imprint on your heart. And Bayley was indeed a special…
Remembering Bill Schock on his 100th birthday … and the 52nd anniversary of Braniff 250 in Falls City. Also … feeling old from … time flying and stuff. Since the AM2431 crash in Durango a few days ago appears to be from weather-related causes, never forgetting the lessons of BN250, as well as CO426, OZ809,…
Is there anything better than a warm summer night playing in – er, rather sitting near the lawn sprinkler under a street light while watching the 21:00 evening arrivals at KBNA? Well, maybe if I was still 10 …
Back in 2014, I included a chapter in my book detailing Bill Schock’s war experiences as they related to his reporting on the crash of Braniff International flight 250 in 1966.
«This is Bill’s final column» out of countless ones he wrote over 71 years for the Falls City Journal. With this column, he said farewell; the Journal has been sold and moved to a much smaller space in downtown Falls City which it had occupied until 1950. It’s all extremely symbolic of the state of…
Did you ever have one of “those” years? For me, 1993 was my, as the Queen said, “annus horribilus.” But 2018 is… Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, May 15, 2018
It’s official!!! Frank opens the door for the first time on the first house he/we have ever owned! “Oh frabjous day!… Posted by Steve Pollock on Monday, April 23, 2018
Closing on the new house at 11 a.m. tomorrow! VERY happy. His Majesty is preparing final addresses for the Cats of Saddlebrooke/Hermitage, then he and the Royal Court will be off at the end of the week to invade and conquer the new land of Jonesboro/Nashville. Wish him luck; there is a very giant, very…
“It burns! It burns!” Happy birthday to the better half! (Those candles were throwing off sparks which you can barely… Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, February 27, 2018
It’s in the 60s, the tree is blooming big time, and the crew down the street is mowing a yard. And sadly, two are dead… Posted by Steve Pollock on Monday, February 26, 2018
"I'll take care of this, thank you very much!" Posted by Steve Pollock on Friday, February 23, 2018
There’s this thing that has been closely guarded for going on 40 years in 2018. It’s my secret. So as it hits its 40th birthday in our new year, I decided it’s time to tell the world.
Beloved Bosco gets a gingerbread bear. (He seems to feel fine; I just woke him up for his treat. I don’t think his… Posted by Steve Pollock on Saturday, December 2, 2017
Head Beagle Fergus gets a gingerbread lion too. Posted by Steve Pollock on Saturday, December 2, 2017
Prince Goose is Loose gets a gingerbread lion. Posted by Steve Pollock on Saturday, December 2, 2017
Queen Sascha gets a gingerbread elefunk. Posted by Steve Pollock on Saturday, December 2, 2017
His Imperial Majesty The Roux wishes it known that you can take your monstrous Christmas tree, which is blocking His… Posted by Steve Pollock on Saturday, December 2, 2017
My girlfriend Tessa is staying a week with us while her mommy Carol Miller Stewart is up nawth havin' Thanksgiving 'mongst her Yankee kin. She has a set of steps her daddy Rick made her to get up in bed, but always ignores them and wants me to boost her. (She's a tripod dog and…
Facebook wants to know what were we doing 15 years ago? Let's see … I remember … besides Frank Lester (middle), San… Posted by Steve Pollock on Tuesday, March 29, 2016
To note a much happier occasion: Happy birthday to Bill Schock, owner/editor of the Falls City Journal, who was monumentally helpful to me in the research and writing of the upcoming book. He graciously shared his photos and memories of Braniff 250 with me for publication; four of those are below, many more will be…
How I felt on my 43rd birthday last week: Credit: «PBF Comics». Fabulous, really twisted stuff there.
«Happy» «Beethoven’s Birthday!»