Easter Sunday — He Is Risen



1 After the Sabbath, and towards dawn on the first day of the week, Mary of Magdala and the other Mary went to visit the sepulchre.

2 And suddenly there was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled away the stone and sat on it.

3 His face was like lightning, his robe white as snow.

4 The guards were so shaken by fear of him that they were like dead men.

5 But the angel spoke; and he said to the women, ‘There is no need for you to be afraid. I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.

6 He is not here, for he has risen, as he said he would. Come and see the place where he lay,

7 then go quickly and tell his disciples, “He has risen from the dead and now he is going ahead of you to Galilee; that is where you will see him.” Look! I have told you.’

8 Filled with awe and great joy the women came quickly away from the tomb and ran to tell his disciples.

9 And suddenly, coming to meet them, was Jesus. ‘Greetings,’ he said. And the women came up to him and, clasping his feet, they did him homage.

10 Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers that they must leave for Galilee; there they will see me.’

Good Friday



When the soldiers had crucified Jesus,
they took his clothes and divided them into four shares,
a share for each soldier.
They also took his tunic, but the tunic was seamless,
woven in one piece from the top down.
So they said to one another,
“Let’s not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it will be, “
in order that the passage of Scripture might be fulfilled that says:
They divided my garments among them,
and for my vesture they cast lots.

This is what the soldiers did.

Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother
and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas,
and Mary of Magdala.
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved
he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son.”
Then he said to the disciple,
“Behold, your mother.”
And from that hour the disciple took her into his home.

After this, aware that everything was now finished,
in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled,
Jesus said, “I thirst.”
There was a vessel filled with common wine.
So they put a sponge soaked in wine on a sprig of hyssop
and put it up to his mouth.
When Jesus had taken the wine, he said,
“It is finished.”
And bowing his head, he handed over the spirit.

(John 19:23-30)

Ear Goop and Humpy Crack Puppies

Meme -- Cute Always Wins


The duty has fallen to me to put medical ear goop into the Crack Puppy’s left ear.

This is necessary because she is a Maltese/Shih-Tzu cross.

And “Shih-Tzu”, in English, means “American Express Platinum cards accepted here.”

So in addition to giving her 3/4 of a phenobarbitone tablet morning and night, wrapped in cheese, for her epilepsy, the blog now has to convince the Crack Puppy:

a)  to lie very still in our lap every night as we;

b)  ram a nozzle down her ear canal and squeeze goop into it.

Which goes really well, as you can imagine.

A bit like putting drops into Junior’s ears when he was just a baby, except the Crack Puppy is way squishier and lots more expensive than he was.

As we recall, the baby hospital bill was only about $12,000. Which is chicken feed when it comes to Shih-Tzus.

Plus, our addictively cute Crack Puppy also needs her anal gland squeezed.

A lot.

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Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Chaos in Houston


Back in the early Nineties, I was with a Houston P.R. firm charged with  generating publicity about their latest master-planned community.

My boss decided to bring in a real-live Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle  to the grand opening of the new community center.

At that time, hiring a real Ninja Turtle was only slightly harder than getting the Beatles back together.

We has to work directly with the licensing agents in New York City to “sign Leonardo”.

Turtle cropped cowabunga

Or at least to sign a New York actor who was licensed to wear the official Leonardo turtle gear.

As I recall, the ridiculous contract required a first class tickets for the actor AND a first class ticket for the Leonardo’s suit.

It was ridiculous, but we signed the contract, and promoted the heck out of Leonardo’s appearance.

When Saturday morning came, you would’ve thought we were giving away $1,000 bills. And ponies.


We know we had a problem when the new community center was packed  before Leonardo was picked up at the airport (some 45 minutes away).

At 10 a.m. — an hour before the show was to begin — there were maybe 500 adults on hand, each with two or three wide-eyed children.

It was 110 degrees outside, and the packed building was getting more crowded and hotter by the minute.

There was NOTHING for the kids to do except cry.

And there was NOTHING the parents could do except fantasize about killing the idiot P.R. people who had organized this nightmare.

We tried to stall, to avoid being ripped limb from limb.

But there are only so many times that you can say:

“Leonardo has landed! And he’s on his way! Maybe he had to stop for pizza. Hahaha.”

Finally, just before a full-blown riot broke out, Leonardo arrived.

We briefed the actor back stage as he put on his Leonardo suit.

We cued the SUPER LOUD Ninja Turtle Music, and Leonardo showed himself.

The kids went absolutely berserk! We were saved!

It was like the Red Sea parting when Leonardo strutted to the middle of the building.

He put down his boom box and pushed play.

Then 100% authentic and fully authorized Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle tunes began to blare.

Leonardo was all kinds of awesome, spinning and kicking and doing totally rad Ninja Turtle stuff.

Just like in the movies!

This was the greatest P.R. idea ever!

For about three minutes.


And then Leonardo had done his dash and wanted to sit down backstage, because he was hot.

He was union.  His contract specifically said he would do NO TALKING. And he was not about to sign autographs.

So we were dead.

My quick-thinking boss grabbed a mike and explained that we had boxes of cool TMNT stuff.

So if everyone could just be patient…

But by then, pretty much every kid in the place was crying.

The first wave of parents lunged toward the boxes. They grabbed handfuls of gear, then fought their way through the crowd back to their kids.

The rest of the parents soon realized there wasn’t going to be enough Turtle Swag to go around.

It got ugly.

I have an abiding memory of my 6-4 boss trying to wade through the angry sea of humanity, holding the only remaining box of Turtle Swag just as high as he could get it, maybe eight-feet in the air.

He was trying to make it to a big table in the corner.  He never had a chance.

It’s a shame that the New Yorker in the turtle suit didn’t get torn to shreds like that box, is all I’ve got to say.

Other than Kowabunga, dude.  


Stupid, Evil Goat Heads and Sticker Wars


I cannot tell you how much I hated goat heads.

If you grew up in Norman, Oklahoma, you didn’t wear shoes during the summer.

Every now and again, you’d step on those suckers.

They’d stab you right in your heal, and bury the “horns” to the hilt.

When you tried to rip them out, half the time the “horn” would stay embedded in your heel, and blood would start trickling out.

You’d have to limp home so your Mom could perform surgery, using a needle, tweezers and Methiolate.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the wound would ache for days, because the evil goat heads had some kind of poison in them.

If you stepped on one of the dry, dead ones, it was sort of like getting finned by a catfish on your bare foot.

As I type this, I can literally feel the goat head pain in my heel.

I hated the stupid, evil, goat head stickers. At least the dead ones.

I have to admit the stickers could be great fun while green and still on the stalk.

My best friend Steve Madden and I would gather them in bunches, taking great care to pick the best ones, with just the right amount of stickers and perfect throwing stems.

Then, BOOM, it was like a full-on snowball fight, but with stickers.

Man, that was fun, especially when your opponent was wearing cut-offs and no shirt!

There was nothing better than seeing the stickers you’d just thrown stabbing directly into the flesh of your best friend.

Steve was way bigger than me and a two-fisted thrower. I only had one hand, so I couldn’t go toe-to-toe with him during these epic Sticker Wars.

My strategy relied on “strafing runs”.

I’d race at him going about 900 mph, throw a couple of stickers, and then, poof, be gone. 

On my final run, I’d unload my entire payload.  Because, even if Steve wanted to kill me, I could outrun him. 

And by the next day, he would have gotten over his mad, so he wouldn’t pound me.

Face Shot

You could only target from the shoulders down. You could never, ever, throw at somebody’s face.

No one ever violated that rule on purpose.  But during war, accidents happen. 

One time, I remember saving my very best sticker for last.  It had five individual stickers on the longest, most perfect throwing stem I’d ever seen.

It was beautiful.

I charged Steve like a maniac, threw with all my might, and it hit him right in the eye. I just froze and held my breath.

By God’s grace, Steve got his eye closed just in time.

The stickers literally sutured his eye closed, with some impaled on the top eyelid and some on the bottom one.

When he gingerly pulled the stem, the stickers remained impaled in his eyelids.  He had to pluck them off with his bare fingers, one by one.

Now, I don’t recall running away from Steve very often. But on that day, once I knew I hadn’t put his eye out, I ran home like a jack rabbit.

I didn’t come out the next day until I knew Steve had two good eyeballs left.

After a sincere apology, and a few punches in the shoulder, Sticker Wars began anew. 

And he got the first throw.

Fair is fair. 


Click HERE to read all about Nebraska Street Monkey’s Blood.


‘Lent’ Me Your Ears

Our record for Lent is pretty spotty over the last couple of decades because we have made some very, very bad decisions.

There was the year that we gave up sex for Lent.  If our memory is correct, that’s the year that we killed 900 people and got divorced. So overall, not so good.

That was ALMOST as bad as the year that we gave up coffee for Lent.  Lord have mercy.

We tried to do that when we were a) drinking maybe 10 cups of coffee a day b) working in a HIGH STRESS P.R. agency and C) trying to keep a low profile because the police were still looking for us for all the people we killed during the “no sex” Lent.

Then there was the Lent we gave up ibuprofen.  Can you imagine, a former 128-pound football player from Norman High School — read “broken” — giving up ibuprofen while still mowing and digging and building stuff?  Can you say, “moron”?”

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Valentine’s Day Flowers are for Kids; True Love is in the Rubbish Bin



Love means never having to say, “you are SO IRREEEEEETATING.”

Or at least it should near Valentine’s Day.

But the Chinese Missus felt the need to say that again the other day, for perhaps the 10,000th time since we’ve been married.

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