Posts Tagged ‘ Nonfiction ’

“Five Etiquette Tips for Young Ladies of Today,” by Abigail King

Apr 8th, 2020 | By

If a gentleman places his hand on your knee under the table at a dinner party with the intention of signaling you to shut up, stab him immediately in the eye with a fork (salad fork, place fork, oyster fork or dessert fork are equally apropos).  Use sufficient force to penetrate the meniscus. If eyeball juice squirts onto your food, discreetly push your plate to the side and wave the server over to replace your tainted victuals. 



“There Has Never Been A Perfect Band Name, But These Seven Groups Came So, Damn, Close,” by Warren J. Cox

Mar 25th, 2020 | By

Like the fountain of youth many have sought the perfect band name, but all have fallen short. However, let us honor now the seven bands that have fallen the LEAST short, and examine how they could have achieved perfection.



“Ten Things I Know about Diet Coke that I’m Delighted to Share with You,” by Sharon Goldberg

Mar 18th, 2020 | By

I am a connoisseur of Diet Coke. A gourmand. A maven. Even a snob. My palate is supremely refined. What a sommelier is to wine, what a nose is to perfume, I am to Diet Coke. I drink it every day. All day. Some days it’s the only beverage I drink. Diet Coke is my wake up call, my “Hello world,” my “I’m ready to interact on a sentient level.” I drink Diet Coke with burgers, with pasta, with salad, with pancakes and eggs, with bagels and lox, with croissants and scones. I don’t drink it with cereal, but I don’t eat cereal.



“School Cutbacks: How to Educate Your Child When the Board of Education Gets Tired of Doing it for You,” by Todd Wells

Mar 4th, 2020 | By

Your child’s mind is her most valuable resource, and until she is old enough to become a gestational surrogate, that won’t change. But school cutbacks are a fact of life now, and though you didn’t sign up for it, you need to be prepared for the responsibility of having to teach your kid stuff.  



“My Little Visitor,” by Helen Beer

Feb 5th, 2020 | By

I was twelve when my “little visitor” arrived for the first time. Its arrival was heralded by my mother as a “first taste of womanhood.” Frankly, in spite of her obvious enthusiasm, I found it a damn nuisance, nothing more. I can’t say I wasn’t prepared, though.