“They rollin’…they hatin’…patrollin,’ they tryin’ to catch me ridin’ dirty.”

Man, I can’t wait for this year to be over.

They’re hatin’ on your boy this year, for real. I’ve had my problems with Johnny law in the past, but I’ve never had a streak like this. When it comes to traffic court, I’ve only had 2 tickets in 10 years. 10 years. Then all of a sudden, I come up and splash 50 Gs on the whip, and I manage to accumulate 4, four, that’s twice that, in one year’s time. Now, that just doesn’t add up.

I’m not one to scapegoat, though, so I have to look inward. Well, I did buy a sports car, could it be I’m driving more aggressively? Speeding more? Sure, a little, that’s almost a given. But with every given action…I’m smarter than I look, so to make up for the supercharged driving, I also keep a much keener eye, stay more alert, and look for speed traps more often. Besides, the change in attitude isn’t enough to increase my annual ticket count tenfold.

Dear Jayden,

This is an open letter I’m writing to you, to my past self.

You see, at the age of five I had my life planned out. It was something along the lines of this:

•         Go to school

•         Play soccer at recess

•         Become an astronaut

The truth of the matter is— I did not become an astronaut.

This is my alpha failure. The initial shattered dream of a child caused by laziness, lack of focus and distraction.

Black Friday, Any mall in America – Today, pandemonium struck, as 3 people were trampled waiting in line all night for the 5:00 AM 20% off sale. Despite the fact that it is widely publicized - both by the media and corporations themselves - that this is the single busiest shopping day of the entire year, setting off a series of events that is exclusively responsible for department stores making profits, people still come in droves to stand in lines for hours. They continue to circle the parking lot dozens of times looking for parking spots a half mile away from their destination. They still fight other anxious and tired shoppers. There is no reasonable response to this information.

You’ll often hear during the year after reports state that record crowds permeated the shopping malls the day after Thanksgiving, there is no drop in shoppers. The term “smart shopper” is an oxymoron; for if there was such a thing, Black Friday would only occur in multi-year cycles. People would stay home on Black Friday. At least every few years. Alas, in reality, they do not. 

The coffee cup was a thimble in Tommy the Pyro’s large, swollen left hand. It was a scarred hand, a hand that had spent at least some time clutching grimy prison bars and weathered card decks, a hand that had been tattooed and scarred over tattoos and scars until the wrinkles of his age were entirely irrelevant. He looked at me with seasoned, hard gray eyes as he sipped at the scalding liquid inside his cup.

“So, how did you meet Frankie the Fin?” He asked, not smiling. Suddenly, improperly, Jailhouse Rock began to play softly from speakers overhead.

“I did a small stretch in Gleason with him,” I said, returning his gaze and adding some rigidity of my own. “Two to four in the late nineties for B and E.” I poured myself a fresh glass of orange juice from a bowling pin-shaped carafe on the table between us. “He said if I was ever in Denver and needed heaters when I was on the outside, I come see you.”