Each time I scribble a thought with artistic intent: Remembering my Mother on my Birthday
Sean MurphyAny time I need to feel reminded that I am one of the lucky ones,...
Of Big Macs, Beethoven and Fisherman’s Friends
Ten years is a long time. Imagine something you love, or crave. Then imagine ten...
Don’t Call It A Comeback or, I Sold My Soul for Old Milwaukee
As the famous Canadian philosopher Neil Peart once opined, “Plus ca change, plus c’est la...
B-Boys To Men: Our Little Beasties Are All Growns Up!
Any discussion of Beastie Boys’ third album is likely to divide fans into two camps:...
What Would Touchdown Jesus Do?
If they could just go to church and keep their superstitions to themselves, no one...
Jimi Hendrix Was Not Human: Part One
Okay. I wrote words about (and worse, posted pictures of) Camille Paglia and Bret Michaels on this blog within...
When the Good Guys Beat the Bad Guys
I love virtually everything about New York City, except for its insufferable sports teams. Incalculable...
Like a bewitched jackhammer
Look at that picture for a minute. That is no joke. It’s also not a...
Earth Day (Revisited): An Appreciation of Black Sabbath
Every day is Earth Day. Question: Is it possible that a band could sell over...
Mark Twain: The Big Daddy of American Letters
On April 21, 1910, author Samuel Langhorne Clemens, better known as Mark Twain, died in...