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Team Noble

When the underdogs won the Iditarod, “Twin Peaks Priscilla,” an over the hill working girl from Nome, returned home with an avalanche of cash, two Husky puppies, and in lieu of slicing an old timer’s grubstake too thin, the deed to a played out goldmine.

Which upon further inspection promised to unearth vast quantities of another precious metal, which is why, a decade later, polite and gilded San Francisco High Society whispered, reverently, about “Platinum Priscilla.”

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Lake Effect Snow Suite For Ukulele

Her “Lake Effect Snow Suite For Ukulele” sold well enough…for science fiction. At lunch her agent suggested a course correction. She agreed, calling back their waitperson, swapping and just on time, her Amish chicken for a polish sausage with Amber Ale Honey Mustard.

Three hours of lampshade and shoe shopping later she was having some serious sausage regrets. Leaving Lake Shore Drive, she turned onto Montrose, pulled into a strip mall, and parked in front of a convenience store hoping for quick over the counter relief. She walked into a robbery in progress and was killed unaware. She was the first of nineteen people to die during the incident.

Some suggested she was the catalyst. Her agent did. Her agent’s chronicle of the robbery-hostage situation-turned massacre, won a Pulitzer, had Hollywood producers bidding, and led to a long and lucrative “True Crime” career.

The agent and that lampshade…both shameless.

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our thoughts go out to

The ad guy didn’t have a good year. His wife divorced him. His mistress dismissed him, and his only child returned from “The Front” in parts.

Unable to compose a pithy prayer or suicide note, and unable to laugh or get liquored up, he informed his clients that he was closing his agency.

He designs and writes sympathy cards now. The more maudlin, the merrier. He makes good money. He lives and drinks alone, excepting every Saturday night when the service sends over a woman. And they share snort after snort, and hoot after holler, as she sits bare-assed naked, riotously reading the very best of his past week’s work.


I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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