Today when I placed my vote, I couldn’t help but think of an old college comrade taken much too soon. All the roads he would’ve travelled, and hopefully travels now in spirit. In every crook of every corner of the world, his easy laughter rings out. His look of constant surprise. His gentle nature, quizzical smile. I feel privileged to have ever called him a friend. I will sing his name as long as I breathe air.
Praise up, Doddy!
Another week, another person crawling out of the shadows of anonymity to claim intimate knowledge of San Francisco’s Zodiac killings. In fact, the flavour of the last ten years has been to implicate a deceased family member. It’s easier that way. You don’t get community service for wasting police time, and uncle Mike who dropped his trousers in your parent’s garage gets to be the bad guy for once. Drop in a couple of unsolved sexual assaults and the guy’s feathers start to look real tarnished.
Deadline Day: But Who’s Really Dying?
The Jim White Scandal
Spare a thought for Jim White today. Not the one who signs off triumphantly an hour before midnight with a relieved and still playful glint in his eye. That one is already dead; being chaperoned into a car during commercial break where, contract honoured, Murdoch’s hookers will attempt to service out what little life remains from his short-circuiting mainframe.
“Ah, yes”, he will say, powering-down in the 1st person, “Jim White is currently enjoying every moment of this terrific slop-job.” Continue reading
YELLA HOLES - 