Dave's Fiction Warehouse

It's a long way from "Yellowstone" F or the first time in 13 years, I was watching Florida hurricane reports at a far remove. Just the way I used to watch the reports of Montana wildfires: Tough luck, I’d think, but what are you gonna do? No matter where you live, it’s always something.  I’m a Montana resident again, once more fully tuned in to the whole wildfire thing. The wife and I have our new driver’s licenses and license plates and we’re registered to vote in Missoula County.  We’ll be voting straight blue, needless to say. All we need now is a Golden retriever and a Subaru Outback. We left Montana in 1997, moving first to Kansas City, then to Philadelphia, then to Wichita, then to Jacksonville. We had good reasons for each move, most related to money and our newspaper careers. But I always missed the homeland. No matter where one lives, I think, one’s birthplace exerts some considerable tug on the psyche.  So here we are. Things have changed some. Not Rip-Van-Winkl...

All cowards please raise their hands. R IP, Yevgeny V. Prigozhin. As Omar from “The Wire” liked to say: “You come at the king, you best not miss.” Or, in Prigozhin’s case, you roll tanks toward the Kremlin, you’d best not dither and strut and generally fuck around while the boss arranges a suitable reward.  Everyone knew Prigozhin was toast the day he pointed his mercenaries at Moscow. Putin throws people out of windows for a lot less than that. The actual method of his demise, along with nine others as collateral damage, suggests that Putin wanted this murder to be something special. Defenestration was becoming passe. Knocking a jet out of the sky in view of video cameras was just a bit more theatrical. At least the late Mr. Prigozhin showed some sort of quixotic courage, daring, if only briefly, to challenge his infinitely corrupt boss. The hapless saps at Wednesday’s GOP debate couldn’t even do that.  Why, exactly, are any of them running? For any of them to win, Trump has ...