I said to Gabriel, this is what I wrote down. I’m sitting in a mid-eighties Mercedes, like the one my grandfather used to drive. The interior is gray and feels half way between leather and synthetic. The knobs, indicators and clock are anachronistic, and most don’t work–– it would feel old and run down if it weren’t for the emblem on the hood. I notice the cracks in the center consul, so I lean my elbow on it for stability and aesthetic’s sake. The engine is in idle, and I’m stuck in t...

“Hop on Pop,” “The Cat in the Hat,” “Oh the Places You’ll Go”: classics by Theodor Geisel (a.k.a. Dr. Seuss), one of the great writers of the 20th century. Then there is my personal favorite, “The Lorax,” the often overlooked, last book by the good doctor — a brilliant piece of literary work. You see, the Lorax spoke for the trees because the trees have no voices. Back when the Swomee-Swans rang out in space, and long before the advent of the Presidential race, people loved and enjoyed their ...

To answer the question of why the world hates us, what we need is a straightforward model we can understand. What we have are the New York Yankees. The United States in the global community is not unlike the Yankees in the baseball community, and it is a fortunate coincidence that they are nicknamed Yankees, a derogatory term for Americans, and that their logo has Uncle Sam’s hat supported by a bat, likely a Rawlings Big Stick. Unless you are a Yankees fan, you hate the Yankees. Here is th...

Millions of Americans, still on Turkey hangovers, stood in line outside of superstores like Wal-Mart and Target at 6 am last Friday. The Polar Express was released in early November and Starbucks was serving Christmas drinks in Christmas cups weeks ago. It seems Christmas is rapidly becoming the new Valentines Day–– an exercise in over commercialization. Don’t misread me, I’m not a grinch, I enjoy the Christmas season as much as the next person, but I think that it is impossible to not n...

She sang in the evenings and Liam dreamt a new face for her every night. An on-time evening bus placed Liam at home with enough light left for him to linger on the exterior stairwell, in hopes of a passing glimpse through her fourth story window. Her curtains were drawn most of the way, and deep green. Liam enjoyed the concerts while cooking Ramen noodles. He only listened from the kitchen, the room nearest to the central air vent, where her voice echoed through the piping and insulation-...

So here's what I have: a number of ridiculous things that achieve a quality of semi-lucidity. Read something, you might enjoy it, you might learn something. Be as critical as you want–– it makes me better.