Author Archives: Mr I. Gas
Go ahead, stupid. Go ahead and drive a car from New Jersey to Brooklyn. You can experience the colossal congestion, the cookie-crumbling condition of the roads, failure to plan for capacity, the refusal of the plutocracy to invest, the aggression … Continue reading
The alarm rings. Dunlop’s head jerks up and his fist jerks down to smash the clock into silence. Aloud, he emphatically says “yes, yes, yes” over and over before switching to “no, no, no, no.” He lets his head fall … Continue reading
Trying to be helpful, I pointed out this graffito to America some decades ago………but to no apparent avail.
This morning my outgoing, ruddy and bearded petrol attendant, we’ll call him Joey, was issuing forth his usual ‘guten tagen on your noggins’ to me and a fellow named Dave who was driving by in his van. He used ‘phuckin’ … Continue reading
Eulogy for a couch from the 1950s: This couch (we never were ‘sofa’ people) served the hindquarters of family and friends who made their incarnational debuts somewhere between 1885 and 2014. It is heading to the Food Bank, and from there … Continue reading
About that time I hid under my manager’s desk and grabbed his knees when he sat down: I’m not sorry About that time I was too young to know better, and pretended to be wheel-chair bound while using mass transit … Continue reading
This lobster ashtray, previously owned by Dizzy, was caught listening to Night in Tunisia the other morning. Thank you WBGO. It’s not much of a post. Perhaps you had to be there.