His hair suddenly started falling off his head. Dry leaves tumbling from tree branches in Autumn. But all at once! This was no gradual receding of the hairline or bald spot slowly growing at the crown. No, the sorry bastard just went completely bald right in front of his two good friends.

It was much easier then, when you would bound through the open door, small legs propelling you into the world you could usually only see through the window. Determination fueled your sharp giggles, as padded feet pounded on the concrete stoop. You seemed to move like lightning, but it was really no problem at all to catch you, to take you up in my arms, to rush you back into the safety of our home. With the heavy oak door closed and firmly locked, I would return to the groceries abandoned on the kitchen floor. You, though, were still undeterred in your quest.

I made a quick buck-fifty on a job that was so random and boring, I won't go into details. All you need to know was that the whole thing was painfully dull, and by the end of the day, only an old Chinese man got hurt.

The clouds over his eyes had grown thicker in recent years, but Sam could still find his way into the kitchen to get a drink. He followed the cabinets on his right to his bowl in the corner, letting his shoulder brush along the wood, finding his way by sense of touch. It was beginning to hurt to lower his mouth to the water, just like everything else was beginning to hurt: getting up, walking, breathing.

The morning began as it usually does when the two of us have the day off-- we shower together, complain about the cold, and shake the sleep from our heads. On this particular morning, I had been jerked from a sound sleep by another schizophrenic dream; the kind that weaves quietly one way, and then takes a troubling shift in an unexpected direction. I have these dreams a lot.

Way back in 1995, Bill Chattin became my "Papaw" (Southern Ohio speak for "grandfather"). His son married my mom, and-- BOOM!-- I had a new family. No awkward "getting-to-know-ya-for-awhile-until-we're-comfortable-together-B.S." Me, my brother, and my sister had a new set of aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Just like that!
"You one o' them Kirkbride kids? Yeah? Bam! Here's an ass-ton of presents! Merry Christmas. And when's your birthday?"
Of course, family means a lot more than presents-- though, let's be honest, they're pretty nice.

DON’T LET OUR CURRENT ADMINISTRATION FOOL YOU-- GOOD THINGS CAN COME OUT OF TEXAS. OUR VERY OWN VINNIE BAGGADONUTS GOT TO SPEAK WITH 1/6 OF A REALLY GOOD TEXAS THING: JONNY MEYERS OF THE STINGERS ATX. READ ON TO LEARN ABOUT THE STINGERS, THEIR MUSIC, AND THEIR MANY WORLD TRAVELS.
Vinnie: I was wondering how you wound up in Texas having come from New York.

So, last month, I reviewed Rahzel's Greatest Knockouts with nothing more than the actual CD itself. And it was an advanced press release copy to boot, so I didn't get to see who did what for the album, save for the various MCs appearing on it.
But I got corrected, and rightly so.

RATHER THAN TRY AND DESCRIBE WHAT HURRY-UP OFFENSE SOUNDS LIKE, OR HOW COOL A MOTHERFUCKER BASSIST MAX LEAVITT WAS ON THE PHONE, I'LL JUST LET YOU READ THIS INTERVIEW I DID WITH HIM. WE TALK AMSTERDAM, THE ELEPHANT MAN, AND THE NOTORIOUS B.I.G. YOU FIGURE THAT ONE OUT.
Max: So, what’s up, man?
Vinnie: Nothin’ much. I was just reading up on you guys today to learn a little more about you. Man, I hope I was reading about the right band. It was the most bizarre information I’ve ever seen.
M: Really?