IGREW UP AT A TIME when every camp—and these were camps, not cottages—had an out-house. My grandparents built a camp on a small pond up north in the 1940s. The outhouse was named Myra. More...
IT DOESN'T MATTER how small a farm you live on, a farm is tragedy. Or rather, I should say, tragic. Because that is what it is to be alive on this earth. We eat to live. We consume life around us. More...
SUPPOSE A CHEF came in the front door, and your grandmother came in the back door. Whose recipe would you use for family or fun? That’s my problem all the time. More...
“As to his general character, it would not be safe to trust the representations of satirists.” Thomas Babington Macaulay
By Miss Aineeda Lobotomy Semi-Permanent Guest Columnist
SELECTMEN MENTIONED IN SÉANCE – Your Miss Lobotomy had the unestimatable pleasure of attending a séance recently in which she hoped to raise the shade of her dearly departed, ravishingly rich, extremely cheap Great-Uncle Horace Fronto-Lobotomy More...