Dream, Dream, Dream

If someone were to review my dreams, they would probably give them one star at best. Repetitive, they would say.  Not much of a discernable plot, they would say. Derivative, they would say. Nothing at all that’s remotely inventive. Here’s why. There’s the one about the final exam I have not studied for, which is

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Just the Fax

This important news item may have escaped your notice in the past couple of weeks, and I completely understand why. There have been many news-worthy things going on than journalism space to recount them. Some prince and his not-good-enough-to-be-a-princess wife and their not-allowed-to-be-a-prince son (except when he will be, which will happen when said prince’s

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Marching Forth

April is supposed to be the cruelest month, but in fact it’s March that deserves that crown. At least in these parts, April doesn’t regularly erupt into spontaneous snow squalls and spawn northwest winds that fling the snow shovel across the street into the side of the neighbour’s minivan. Luckily, the shovel doesn’t have any

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