Patrick A. McGuire, Bloggonian
For years I told jokes on street corners for tips, dreaming of one day owning a granite counter top. No luck, so I entered a monastery. I now do stand-up at daily prayer services. The monks' vow of silence means they can't laugh. I can't even laugh, although sometimes I sob quietly in the can. This blog is a cry for help. Send money or granite. I accept Pay Pal.
Category Archives: The human comedy
One little beer
Today’s meditation addresses one of the most common complaints of those who commonly complain about addresses. To wit “There are so many ways to go wrong.” And, of course, its corollary “But why? Surely one or two ways would be … Continue reading
Snouting the riddle of time
No. 19 in “Nuggets I picked up from my dog,” inspired by walks with my late dog, Coffee. As he was leaving, the guy who came to fix my computer looked down at the beast stretched out on the … Continue reading
Sic transit gloria mundi*
Yesterday he lifted a slat in the blinds and saw The Spanish Inquisition driving through the neighborhood. He quickly ducked away, his back to the wall. Gulping for air, he wondered how they had found him. He spent the rest … Continue reading
Caving to the inner dork
No. 18 in “Nuggets I picked up from my dog,” inspired while walking the late Coffee J. Dogg. One of the first things a carefree boy casts aside after his bone-cracking, overnight morph into self-conscious teenhood is a hat. … Continue reading
Hip, Son of Cool
The soundtrack of Our Man’s day begins with an exterior shot of his driveway. As we see him backing his pickle-water-green Prius into the raging maelstrom of being (RMOB), we hear the Dave Matthews Band playing a long intro: BUMP … Continue reading
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The nap incident
No. 17 in “Nuggets I picked up from my dog,” inspired while walking the late Coffee J. Dogg. Down in the basement this morning I am alert, wired, spinning thought into gold to keep the wolf from the door. Coffee … Continue reading
Are you going to Savoir Faire?
Nuggets I picked up from my dog, No. 16 I asked Katherine if dogs could think. When they plop down for a snooze, do they go “Man, I’m pooped. Guess I’ll sack out.” Katherine got a little huffy. “Why do … Continue reading
a hint of light 