Fake News Freakout! Episode 8
Welcome to the eighth installment of The Smoky Mountain News’ annual Fake News Freakout. I feel like I say this every year, and I do, but this satirical feature was initially conceived as a one-off back in 2016, when it seemed the whole world had gone mad with literal fake news.
The good and the bad: two book reviews
À chacun son gout, as the French say: “To each his own,” or if you prefer, “There’s no accounting for taste.” Best to keep that thought in mind in this review.
No pun not intended: Dave Waldrop, small-town sage
It’s said that the pun is the lowest form of humor — unless it’s yours.
Torches: literary lights for dark times
Ever had one of those times when every day brought bad news?
In addition to our boatload of national catastrophes these last two months, the last two weeks brought me one report after the other of the struggles of friends and family members.
Perhaps we all need to laugh a little more
Recently I realized I needed to laugh more often.
I do laugh when I’m on the phone with one of my children or a friend, and occasionally if I watch some YouTube video.
Finally, my wife is living the dream
When Tammy and I met almost exactly 15 years ago, there were a few adjustments we had to make, like most couples. She almost fainted when she discovered that there were entire walls in my house covered from floor to ceiling with compact discs and record albums. I could sense that she felt that my décor — “college boy with slightly more disposable income” — left something to be desired.
Falling in love with a writer
Valentine’s Day is almost here, and I have fallen in love. Again.
Three years ago, Nina George entranced me with her novel The Little Paris Bookshop. Ah, Nina, Nina, Nina: she won my heart, and I still open that fine tale once a month or so, rereading certain passages and always delighted by her romantic take on life and the ways of the human heart.
Need I say more? The power of wit
When verbally attacked and left speechless by an assailant, who among us has not long afterwards pondered the mot juste that might have left our assailant gasping for breath on the canvas, that perfect riposte that would have left us the winner standing in the ring?