Do you know what the word vexillology means? Do you know what President Truman’s middle name was? I do, and as far as I can tell I have never derived an ounce of benefit from knowing these and other oddball facts.
How have your New Year’s resolutions held up? As for me, I resolved to improve my diet by cooking my own meals instead of eating out.
Maybe, “Austin is back due to mild interest” is closer to the truth.
About once a month, I hear a voice from the back room of The Beachcomber that yells, “Austin! Write something!”
That drill-sergeant-esque tiding tells me there is a big white spot in the paper and I need to put ink on it.
Do you know what a Luddite is? I didn’t. I assumed it’s how you ordered a Bud Light when you’ve had too many. Since I’ve been called one often enough, I thought I’d better find out the meaning of the word.
Since the local high school promenade is approaching, I thought I’d offer a lesson learned from my own prom.
Sometimes getting a newspaper out every week can be a hard-nosed business. Take for instance this article. It was supposed to hit the streets last week because of its time-sensitive subject matter, but it got bumped. I laid out a logical argument to my editor that included breath holding and foot stomping, but all it got me was a woozy head and a sore foot.
I was the youngest child in my family, by a long shot. My closest sibling was almost a decade older than me. Yeah, I’m one of those.
With the new year upon us, I thought I would put my prodigious prognostication skills to work and give everyone an insight into what the year holds for them.
I have reached that stage in life when hearing a dreaded diagnosis comes with the territory. I got one the other day. It was from my barber.
Anybody that knows me understands my life is essentially a tug-of-war between riding my bicycle and drinking beer.
Did I ever tell you about being stranded on a Pacific island? A genuine remote island off the coast of Papua New Guinea.
Whenever someone leaves their desk here at The Beachcomber, I sneak over to their keyboard and try and get an article in the paper, and this week it worked. And as I plod through my 15 minutes of fame, I typically yammer on about cycling
