The point of this column is that I am sick to death of writing about politics, current events, the state of our Union, and the 45th President of the United States, Donald J. Trump.
I hate stepping out of my comfort zone, even if it is only for a few hours in the evening, to go see a performer I allegedly like, in person.
How in the name of hell did we wind up back here? This is the kind of thing you see in black and white footage from Alabama in 1964. Haven’t we moved beyond this?
Down with the sickness.
As long as you’re here, and as long as we’re here, and as long as it’s actually 2017, the time is perfect
I long to hear our community select a song that will represent the Summer of 2017. I want to believe in the sense of unity from the people that will rise up and do what leaders of political parties cannot. I want music to tie us as a people back together.
And today, I sit in my white, male, middle-class privilege thinking to myself, “Well, now people are going to be afraid to call the police.”
It wasn’t until after my wife and I got married that we made the commitment to dive into all 29 original episodes of “Twin Peaks.” I’ve never looked at ceiling fans the same way again, and I will often reflect on a cup of coffee as being “damn good.”
We’ve developed a problem in this country. We are losing the finer skills of conversation. We are losing the regular skills of listening. We are losing the idea of civility.
When SEMAC hands you $2,500, they don’t just toss a check in the mail and never want to hear from you again. They want results. This is the story of “Lady Parts.”