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Waiting Rooms: Tales of Torture and Triumph by
50
(67 Stories)

Prompted By Waiting Rooms

/ Stories

  Ah, waiting rooms. Those fluorescent-lit purgatories where childhood dreams went to die a slow, magazine-fueled death. Remember those giant, uncomfortable chairs swallowing you whole like a bad couch on “Laugh-In”? The only escape? Dog-eared copies of National Geographic filled with pictures of naked butts and confusing maps of exotic lands (where, presumably, dentists/ doctors…
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A Humorous Peek At Superstition by
50
(67 Stories)

Prompted By Superstitions

/ Stories

“Don’t Walk Under That Ladder”   Alright, ladies and gents, gather ’round. Today’s dissertation is on the peculiar phenomenon of superstition. You know, those little habits that make grown adults clutch a rabbit’s foot like it’s the winning lottery ticket, or avoid black cats like they’re Harvey Weinstein at a kindergarten graduation. Now, as a…
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The Mall Is Dead – Long Live The Mall by
50
(67 Stories)

/ Stories

From Department Store Detours to Deliveries at My Door Hey there, comedy connoisseurs! Here I am here, fresh off a bargain hunt that left me with more questions than discounts. We all know the struggle is real when that cashier asks, “Paper or plastic?” But let me tell you, folks, things weren’t always this “eco-friendly…
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Silence – A Personal Sanctuary by
50
(67 Stories)

Prompted By Silence

/ Stories

Silence – A Sonnet   Oh, sacred hush, a balm for weary ears No traffic roars, no children shriek and play A gentle sigh, the rustle of dried leaves A symphony of quietude that lasts all day But wait, a fly! A buzzing, maddening drone Circling my head with taunting, tiny wings This blissful peace,…
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1963: A Year That Just Couldn’t Make Up Its Own Mind by
50
(67 Stories)

Prompted By 1963

/ Stories

  Alright folks, here I am back to remind you that history isn’t always a dusty textbook. Sometimes, it’s a deranged sitcom with a laugh track that keeps getting stuck. Take 1963, for example. A year that went from “Ask not what your country can do for you” to “Hold my coca-cola while I watch…
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Books That Inspired Me (To be a writer) by
50
(67 Stories)

/ Stories

You ever meet someone who brags about not reading? Like, it’s some kind of badge of honor? “Yeah I haven’t touched a book since I finished coloring in those dinosaur pictures at school. Turns out, crayons are all the education you really need!” Reading is not some punishment for getting bad grades, it’s a portal…
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Fear and Frothing In Las Vegas – My Rant On Phobias by
50
(67 Stories)

Prompted By Fears and Phobias

/ Stories

  Alright, settle down everyone, I am here to dismantle the dramatics of our everyday anxieties. We all have fears, that much is a given. From the perfectly reasonable (stepping off a skyscraper) to the downright debilitating (spontaneous human combustion, a fear of mine, I haven’t slept well with since I first dreamed about it…
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Our Chemical Companions: A Meditation on Modern Medicine (with a Side of Cynicism) by
50
(67 Stories)

Prompted By Pills

/ Stories

    Far out, far out, far out. Let’s talk pills, folks. Those little sugar-coated suckers that have been humanity’s companions since we first figured out chewing on some random root could make us see sparkly jaguars. Shamans with questionable fashion sense swigged dubious concoctions, all in the pursuit of a better afterlife, or at…
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How The Boob Tube Turned Muse by
50
(67 Stories)

/ Stories

  Alright settle down there, Retros. Yes, let us talk about the television, the telly, the boob tube. Now, before you all start clutching your pearls and wailing about the “vast wasteland” that is television, à la Newton Minow, hear me out. Because amongst the endless parade of reality trash and brain-rotting sitcoms, there were…
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Acquired Tastes: A Conspiracy by the Bland & Nasty Tasting Food Lobby by
50
(67 Stories)

Prompted By Acquired Tastes

/ Stories

    Right, acquired tastes, my ar*e. You know what they’re really saying, don’t you? “This stuff is grim, but we can’t afford to throw it away.” So here’s three stories about how you, a literal child, was just too simple to appreciate. Olives. Tiny, wrinkled balls of sadness swimming in brine. Apparently, these were…
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