THE REAL REDLEGS STORY I couldn’t have been more wrong when I first arrived and thought the waterfront/Redlegs scene was a cult. It was not a cult, a commune, a “tribe,” it wasn’t even a…
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It was 1971 and we had just moved from the city to the Mathias Ranch six miles south of Boonville with an overwhelming load of juvenile delinquents, and on the wholly deluded assumption that delinquents…
We bid a sad adieu to Gerald Ford. Here at CounterPunch it has always been our position that Gerald Ford was America's greatest President. Transferring the Hippocratic injunction from the medical to the political realm,…
Most people, of course, work for a living. They spend at least half their lives working and, in fact, define themselves by their jobs. They obviously would be interested in — and obviously need —…
One of the more rewarding aspects of this job is to discover the myriad and remarkable ways that people's buttons get pushed. With regards to Nancy Mayer's comments (see below) about last week's tidbit on…
Every time I see the Santa Rosa Press Democrat, I wonder if it's worth torturing myself by trusting that paper to give me a picture of what humanity is up to. I don't buy it.…
Ask a recreational abalone hunter on the North Coast about poaching, and the reply is invariably tinged with scorn or frustration. Their grumblings spill into Fort Bragg's Subsurface Dive Shop, light up websites and offer…