Your editors at The Weekly Knob have decided to put our publication into a short hiatus as we head into the depths of winter.
As life for us has become enmeshed with the challenges of living in a global pandemic, our personal lives have in turn set priorities for each of us that demand more of our attention than usual. More to the point, we are getting our butts kicked and our hats handed to us in short order and we need a minute to breathe.
Thus, we are taking a break and a step back to reassess our goals…
A shaft of sunlight barrels through the glass and slams into the side of Caroline’s face. It glances off her ruddy cheek without apology, highlighting the linear branding left by Father Time himself. Time may have claimed Caroline’s face, but he left her heart and mind intact, and for that she was grateful.
It was Caroline’s habit to take this particular chair at the noon meal so Paralee would not bemoan the harshness of the noonday sun on her own face. It was their favorite table, and a small sacrifice for her friend. …
Dusk’s murky aura outlined the water tower while the sun glared defiantly at the horizon. Cornfields bereft of their cobbled bounty waved mournfully back to the southerly breeze.
While most the residents of Eternity, Illinois cleaned up dinner dishes, the shadowy silhouette of a man climbed unnoticed toward the top of the water tower, east of Highway 72, behind old Jerry Stumps place. Stumps, a recent widower, had a clear view of the tower from his porch, but he hadn’t been seen outside in weeks. Newspapers and neighbors’ empty casserole dishes littered the stoop.
It felt to Thomas like he…
These are not new lines to consider,
to measure, to find the will to cross
No. These are ancient fissures
snaking through yet
contained in the small minds
of self proclaimed ‘great’ men
and societies of greater delusion
Now we will move these mountains!
March across the forbidden morass
of bogey men with our hearts
as stubborn and solid and true
as a brick thrown through the window
of America’s Museum of Gross Inequities.
When the glass shatters we’ll crawl through
together on hands and knees
over our past to amend
what has been forsaken
Waking up won’t…
“If it smells right, we’re gonna eat it. Cave folk are more clever than those elite prats up top give us credit for, by golly. And that gave us an edge in the beginning. But some of them folk rightly suspected we wouldn’t go down easy after the great purge. So, they barred access to real food, rationed clean water, and gave us some genetically engineered corn powder to choke on instead.
“And they call themselves ‘polite society’ — Pffft, ain’t nothing polite about them gluttonous blubber monkeys. …
Dink here. That ain’t my real name, but I like to be incognito on the streets, if you know what I mean.
I see how you’re looking at me like you ain’t really looking, avoiding my eyes, and I know what you’re thinking. Yes sir, I sure do.
How could a dirty old dude in rags tell mister-seven-hundred-dollar-suit-and-wing-tips anything about living life you don’t already think you know?
Well, buckle up Chuck, cause I’m about to blow your mind with one word.
I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout money, or stocks and futures. I’m talkin’ ‘bout folks living like greedy fools…