UPDATE: Error reading fixed. You should be able to read the post now.

On December 17, 1903 in Kill Devil Hills, North Carolina….in the United States…Two great American brothers did the impossible: an expression that if considered at any length, truly makes no sense at all, for if they actually did it, then clearly it’s possible. In reality it’s impossible to do the impossible. 

I’ll be right back. 

On December 17, 1903 in Kill Devil Hills, North Carolina….in the United States…Two great American brothers did the possible, albeit, the improbable.  On that glorious and mystical morning, the conditions were perfect save for the freezing headwinds gusting up to 27 mph, slapping both the brothers in their collective face like a cold black glove from the cruel dominatrix Nature herself. But they would not be deterred. They would press on…because the wheels of Innovation do not stop for a little ice on the tracks nor does Greatness reveal itself only in the most moderate of conditions. Not to mention, and let me preface this with I can’t speak for Orville and Wilbur, but some people like a good slap in the face from a cold black glove, I being one of them. 

Bear with me.  (more…)

The article will begin shortly.

Thank you for your patience.  Let’s begin.

Although facebook has been the gift that keeps on giving in terms of confirming whether or not a prospective date is or is not a liberal, for this installment I thought I’d put my instincts to the test by participating in the very underrated process of “stereotyping.”

I think, and rightfully so, that many Americans feel that Los Angeles is a place bankrupt of spirituality…not to mention just plain bankrupt. However, there is a spiritual movement among Angelinos that folks may not be aware of, largely because it is a faith so self indulgent it would be difficult for the average hard working American to fathom.  This movement is called “Spiritual Psychology.”

Let me just say this for fear of being labeled judgmental: I have nothing against spirituality or psychology; in fact, I actually saw a Medicine Man on an Indian reservation in the Jemez Valley to help me with a “problem” I’d prefer not to discuss here. It was an extremely spiritual, dare I say magical experience, after which my “problem” did not improve in the least. (more…)

In my mind, I have received thousands upon thousands of emails from folks wondering why “My Weekly Date with a Liberal” is anything but weekly. This is certainly a legitimate question which deserves a legitimate answer. But who has the time to answer thousands of emails that were never actually written? So for this chapter, I’ve decided that I will address this issue right here, right now, by explaining the process which occurs between these dates, and more importantly, to relay a recent encounter I had with a liberal woman, girl, child, who unnerved me enough such that my response could very well put my anonymity in jeopardy. This will all make sense by the end of this installment which I am entitling “American Heart.”

I understood when I took on this project that I could easily suffer severe trauma, mentally, emotionally, spiritually…and sexually, although depending on your proclivities, the latter could be considered a bonus. Be that as it may, I am writing to let you all know, that the trauma I anticipated did in fact materialize in a way that has profoundly affected me: I have developed a strong affinity for night blooming jasmine, I cry all the time, and I apologize incessantly for things for which I am not responsible.  Now I can tell you with no uncertainty, extensive knowledge of Cestrum Nocturnum accompanied by inexplicable outbursts of tears is no way to procure a date. My mojo has deteriorated, as if I didn’t pinch its foliage and cut back after flowering to maintain compact growth. What’s happening to me? (more…)