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Dr. Michael DeBakey, the renowned heart surgeon, received the Congressional Medal of Honor recently. He’s going to be 100 this year, so apparently somebody figured they better get to it.
When the Seattle city council voted to ban commercial cadaver displays like “Bodies: The Exhibition,” you had to wonder if Bellevue’s city council would have done the same.
If you’ve lived on the Eastside for a while, you can probably remember a place called Pizza and Pipes. The restaurant featured extremely talented keyboardists playing a huge, 1,200-pipe Wurlitzer organ with all the bells and whistles – literally, bells and whistles – along with soap bubbles and puppets. It was a pizza place designed for young families, the noisier the better.
A few weeks ago, my wife and I were watching the DVD of Titanic, when she suddenly - WAIT A MINUTE! That was the beginning… Continue reading
I grew up in the town of Bend, Ore. It was the June of my 16th year, and my plans were set. After a grueling year completing the 10th grade, I now planned to spend the next three months in a mostly horizontal position, reading comic books and quaffing root beer. But the Old Man had other ideas.
A friend of mine was driving past a cemetery with his 4-year-old daughter one day and noticed her looking closely at it. “Do you know what that place is?” the dad asked. “Oh sure,” she answered casually. “That’s where the dead guys live.”
Overheard from a 12-year-old girl at a yard sale in Eastgate last weekend: “Hey, Dad! Come look at this thing! It looks really old! You’d love it!” The thing was a VHS cassette player – a gadget so antiquated that the 12-year-old had never seen one before.
Happiness is something like Justice Potter Stewart’s famous definition of pornography: “I know it when I see it.” Happiness, on the other hand, is something you’ll know when you have it. But how do you get it? In my dad’s day, he seemed to know a number of people with nicknames – and they were often nicknames that connoted the exact opposite of who the person really was. There were bald-headed guys named Curly. Gigantic fellows named Tiny. Slow-footed chaps named Speedy.
I am one of five brothers. Our ranks are down to four — my younger brother, Sean, died recently after a sudden illness. He was only in his fifties, an age that sounded positively ancient when we were kids, but now seems far too young.
Ever met one of those people who seemingly can do everything? I know a guy like that.
My next-door neighbor recently told me that he began to ‘horripilate’ while watching local TV news last week. I said, “Gee, that’s too bad” -… Continue reading
Here’s a headline for you: “A NEW STUDY HAS COME OUT!”
A few weeks ago, my wife and I were home watching the movie Titanic when she suddenly hit the pause button and said, “I think… Continue reading
My grandmother would have been apoplectic at such a phrase coming from a president. But President Obama said it recently when talking about the health care rollout: “We screwed up.”
Some people think all babies are cute, regardless of the species. Really?
Looking for something fun to do? Here’s an idea: Take a pen or black magic marker to the photo of me that accompanies this column. Carefully black out my left front tooth. You’re not defacing the photo.
I walked into a neighborhood coffee joint last week and noticed that the barista's left eye was swollen shut and he had a large bandage… Continue reading
I remember the day I brought home a particular fifth grade report card. Mine, unfortunately.
If you Google (or Bing, in deference to Microsoft) the words “Big Bertha,” the first thing that comes up is the name of a golf club. Next, comes the name of a super-heavy military howitzer, followed by a Guinness world record-holding cow. All of those Big Berthas share the ability to generate some degree of effective movement. Then comes Seattle’s Big Bertha, the tunnel boring machine that is now sitting underground as motionless as a set of dinosaur bones.
The other day, I thought of a new law that ought to be enacted.