“Hey Worm, did you see old Crumbliss in the paper this mornin?
What’s he done now?
They found him about six oclock this mornin under a tree in a big alfalfa field. He found the only tree in the whole field and run into it. They said when the cops come and opened the door old Crumbliss fell out and just laid there. Directly he looked up and seen them blue suits and he jumped up and hollered, said: Where is that man I hired to drive me home?” (Suttree, Cormac McCarthy)
This is How You Heal the Wound
The Subdivision
On the Virtues of Peeing Outside
Imagination destruction
The Things We Build
Our Love Affair With Fairs
Curse of the Greedy Copyright Holders
Boy, the Scout Handbook Keeps Changing
Ya Gotta Have (Real) Friends
G.K., Santa, and Me
How Can I Teach My Kids to Work?
Intelligence Designer
Elective
The Glass Child
Name
The Grace I Know
Coming Apart
Uninterested
This little essay came to me more as a dream or a prayer, and people seem to like it, so I thought I’d share it
Some of you may enjoy my radical suggestion in today’s Wall Street Journal that the First Amendment doesn’t authorize teachers to indoctrinate children. It’s getting
Well, it’s been a hell of a summer. Pestilence, economic destruction, bitter partisanship, and now, the politicians descend from their lairs to commence the quadrennial
I’ve published a few things over the past few days that perhaps you’ll like: This is about a largely forgotten Oklahoma curmudgeon who foretold both
