While wrapping up the 1972 ski season, I met a male hairdresser who seemed to have everything I wanted: nice clothes, a new Porsche and lots of women. Wads of cash, thick hair on his chest, and lots of women. Socks with no holes, gleaming teeth and lots of women. But, what particularly impressed me was that he could afford a place without 18 roommates. So, at the end of the ski season, I moved into a studio apartment with two friends and enrolled at The Hair Academy of Beverly Hills. I didn’t do much research to see if it was a good school – I surmised if it was…
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Zap Them Trout This just in... how to catch trout without a fly rod
One of my favorite ways to relax is to load up my sport utility vehicle with fishing poles, reels and tackle boxes filled with thousands of dollars of lures, lead weights, stinky bait, squirming worms, extra rolls of line and nets, storage creels and ice chests for a little bit of trout fishing. The problem is I never seem to catch anything. After spending hours sitting in a boat or on the side of the river under the blistering sun, swatting away mosquitoes, I rarely catch a fish large enough to feed one member of my family. It’s frustrating. I just wish there was an easier way. Fortunately, there is…
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Reincarnation Gone South Everything you learned about life after death is all wrong
For the life of me, I can’t figure out how I got here. A month ago, I was contently adjusting to my short stay in Purgatory, waiting for the bus to Heaven. Then, out of the blue – poof – I find myself standing in the middle of Mandelbaum’s Commercial Poultry Farm in Bakersfield, California, faced with reincarnation. Both are a long way from Heaven. My life came to an abrupt end during a fluke rock climbing accident in Yosemite National Park. Given my vile and contemptible life on earth, it came as no surprise that I’d be sent to Purgatory before I made it past the pearly gates. But,…
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Stranded in Purgatory The things Sister Mary Blanchefleur never told you about in catechism classes
Here I am. Stranded in Purgatory. You’d think with all of the opportunities I’ve had to excel or fall from grace, I’d have gone straight to Heaven or Hell. Instead, I’m trapped here in mediocrity. Getting stranded in Purgatory is the equivalent of getting a C+ on your Chemistry final – not bad, but not great, either. True, I’ve never gone out of my way for anyone, my entire life. Faced with the opportunity to do something illegal, compassionate or meaningful that could result in some form of positive or negative distinction, I always took the easy way out. Like the time Morrie Fensterman’s wife came onto me at the…
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(Don’t Let Me Be) The Last Virgin in Saigon Song writing isn't as easy as it looks... even when you're trying to slide into home
I’d been fogging up the windows with Magda Biedermann for the better part of our senior year. As graduation approached, I had only one thing on my mind: consummating our relationship (and coincidentally, losing my standing as a virgin) before being drafted and sent off to Vietnam. Her motives were considerably more funereal: she wanted to get married and carry our little bun in her oven. My rapaciousness was no match for Magda’s wholesome ambitions, so progress was painfully slow. While I was able to reach first base through a cunning synthesis of deception, chicanery and Olympic-class flexibility, there were no indications that I’d get any further, let alone slide…