Last week I yammered on about a football size rock sailing off a dump truck and slamming into the left fender of my car. I took a light-hearted look at what could have been a serious situation.
By Greg Gelpi
By Doug Gorman
There's a popular carnival ride that I've heard about but never experienced.
By Doug Gorman
Katherine Swanson Bryan, age 90, of Forest Park, passed away Friday, Nov. 14, 2003.
By Diane Wagner
By Ed Brock
I'm glad October has ended. Speaking from the perspective of someone who was raised in a household where "Halloween" was a bad word, I've never found myself too interested in the season in which children and adults dress themselves up as ghosts and goblins and witches.
What a difference some years make in our perspective. I remember distinctly sitting around with others full of bloodlust and enthusiasm after Americans kicked the Iraqis out of Kuwait and bemoaning the fact that George Bush was a wimp and didn't follow through and invade Iraq.
By Michael Davis
By Jeffery Armstrong
Yesterday my little sister Katie got married. And let me just say congrats to her and her new husband Matt and to our families. It did not hit me this thing was going to actually go down until I was in Acworth for the rehearsal dinner this past Friday night. That's how it always is with me. I don't get psyched up about events until there actually happening. When I arrived at the hotel Friday I said, "Hey, this is actually happening, like for really real."
Once again mired in the re-decorating blues (Is He testing me?), I am at wit's end, rendered stark raving mad by the myriad choices available to one lucky (or unlucky) enough to be born in The Land of Plenty.
By Anthony Rhoads
From staff reports
NEWS DAILY - COMMUNITY LINKS
wHy Is IT tHAt,/ if e.e. cummings WerE To wrITe THIs,/ it WouLD Be conSIDereD gReAT POEtry,/ but If I WEre tO WrITe thIS,/ iT WoUld BE ConSIDEred A GrEAt wasTE/ oF PapER?
Some people are horrible drivers, so let's ban driving. Let's rip their driver's licenses right out of their hands.
Some people spend more time on their couch than the pillows do. Prime Time means resting their post-work laurels with a bowl of Sodium Crunchies in their lap and soaking up some quality alpha waves from the big blue eye. These faithful followers wield grease-stained remote ray guns and fire off attention-deficit blasts of infrared Nielsen radiation.
I'm tempted to use his name, but there's an off chance that he's still alive.