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Author Archives: Mr. B

I’ll Be Home For Christmas, But I was Only Dreaming

It’s near five o’clock on Christmas Eve. To the left of me is a bottle of Jameson Irish Whisky; to the right of me is my trusty Nikon D2h. Read More »

Burn Baby, Burn

Pain is temporary. That’s the point of this life: to be consumed, to become something more than what you are. Read More »

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Trying to make it home for a home run. Read More »

This Time Darling, It Just Ain’t the Same

It’s been a depressing sort of week. Read More »

I Think I Found My Key Again

Been trapped in the hallways of depression for too long and the key out has always been right in front of me. Read More »

It’s All Relative to the Size of Your Steeple

The beautifully damaged of the world are my favorite type of people. Read More »

Death Takes a Ride, Westbound, I-80

A particularly gruesome accident leaves its mark. Read More »

Pickin’ at Scabs

You can't help yourself, you see the scab and you pick at it. Read More »

You Might Not Be Able to Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd, Or So I’ve Heard

A broken car teaches a life lesson. Read More »

Build the Mosque

Let us thumb our noses as the terrorists — build the mosque near Ground Zero. Read More »