A Dinner of Hotdogs
       For weeks, you dreaded going to a formal dinner party because you knew the main course was liver. No seasonings. No bacon wrap. No fried onions. Just liver. You tried every excuse, but finally realized you just had to take your antacids and go to dinner.
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Government-Approved Slaughter
       Almost every day, a dozen or so wild burros come down from the foothills of the Black Mountains of northwestern Arizona onto the main street of Oatman, a revitalized high desert mining town about 15 miles from where California, Nevada, and Arizona meet. [ more ]

A Lott of Questions
       It was just an off-the-cuff comment. A throw-away line, actually. Just something to honor retiring Sen. Strom Thurmond at his 100th birthday bash. [ more

Marshbaum's Fine Line
       Surrounded by maps and monitors, Marshbaum was directing the search for Osama bin Laden.
       As the only journalist allowed into the super-secret War Room, located 250 yards north of the intersection of routes 45 and 518, just inside Coal Breaker Mountain in Molly Twp., it was my responsibility to observe and report every factoid to the public. I might win a Pulitzer if I did my job well. If not, I would get several offers to be a TV news anchor. [ more ]

'Pssst. Cigarettes. One Buck Each'
      "Pssst."
      I walked straight ahead, looking neither right nor left in a darkened alley illuminated by a quarter-moon.
      "Pssst."
       I quickened my pace, but there was no avoiding the shadowy figure. [ more ]

Silent Protest, Vocal Response
     “Enraged” would be too mild of an adjective to describe the caller to Spectrum magazine, a national award-winning student-produced magazine for the permanent residents of two rural counties in northeastern Pennsylvania.
    “Take my wife off of this circulation list. I don’t know how she ever got on!” he demanded. [more]

The FEMA Scheme-a; Or, The Unrepentant Consultant
Clutching a bag of nails in one hand and wielding a hammer in the other, Marshbaum broke out of semi-retirement and into my office. It could mean only one thing.
    “I’m going to be rich!”
    In the three decades I have known my faux friend, he always had a scheme for how to live the affluent life of a no-talent pop celebrity. [More]