O’Shaughnessy’s got invited to an “Eve-of-420” event at a club in San Rafael called Terrapin Crossroads, launched by Phil Lesh of Grateful Dead fame. There was valet parking, a rare treat for my 1986 Volvo.…
Posts published in “Essays”
In the aftermath of Donald Trump’s big win in the New York Primary this past Tuesday, the electoral map — in the color scheme adopted by the New York Times — was a giant red…
Most humans, alas, are easily swayed by clever liars who pray on our fears, and such swaying will almost surely cause the human experiment to devolve into global chaos—possibly quite soon. I’ve been pondering the…
The other night I was feeling a little peckish after one of our less fulfilling dinnertime repasts, the dreaded Meatball Tray. They've got it half right — they are more or less spheroid, I just…
This is the word that comes to mind on hearing/seeing Hillary speak on the hustings. The raw, hoarse sound of her voice. The nasty finger jabbing. She, in her vast public career, obviously has had many role models and influences as to a speaking/campaigning style. With this, I contend we are seeing beyond merely smug to the "real" Hillary. She gives me the creeps.
New York, New York. The big city. We're your grandmother's Russian/Jewish cooking is readily available. It's called Kaplan's Delicatessen on 58th? How about chicken soup with stewed chicken feet? It could happen, but if not,…
Listening to the Giants bombard the Dodgers last week, I decided to pay a couple bills. This year, so far, for the first time since I was a kid listening to Lon Simmons and Russ Hodges doing the radio broadcasts, the boys are winning games with strong hitting rather than great pitching. Mays, McCovey, Cepeda, and Alou were a scary battery for any pitcher to face in the 1960s, and today we’ve got Panik, Posey, Pence, Belt, Duffy and Crawford smacking the ball around the park, not to mention our ace Madison Bumgarner taking the loathsome Clayton Kershaw deep in their first meeting of the year.