Driving down my street is like entering some bizarre David Lynch version of a white trash winter wonderland. Seriously. The combined wattage of all the outdoor lighting on my block is comparable only to the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, or perhaps the total output of the sun! [...]

I was at the grocery store this evening picking up a few of life’s essentials… You know… Milk… Bread… Yogurt… A can of juice…

Wait what???

Say that out loud once or twice… “A can of juice.”… “A can… Of juice” It’s completely accurate, yet it has a distinctive white trash ring to it when you actually say it out loud.

So anyway…