Author Archives: WSW
- – - – - – - – - – - – - -
The fine and clever folks over at Punchnel’s have seen fit to post a meditative little essay of mine entitled, I Like to Swear on their excellent site. Please do drop in and have a look. There’s lots of great stuff over there, including, but not limited to, rants about the Grateful Dead, Con Chapman’s Releasing Your Inner Big Foot, fiction, poetry and reviews. The site is chockablock with great reading material. And really, wouldn’t you rather be teasing your brain with lots of top drawer writing than staring at spreadsheets, slumping disconsolately at your desk or pretending to enjoy playing Barbies with your kids?
My piece even includes an explicit language warning and the teaser, “W.S. Winslow works blue.” So in addition to being amused and perhaps a bit scandalized — and really who doesn’t enjoy the illicit frisson of a good scandalizing, especially on a Monday morning? — you can share in the satisfaction of my little exercise in pushing the limits of the First Amendment.
Post a clever comment, reblog, send it viral. Have at it ferchrissakes.
In these, the final precious moments of calm before the storm, I am taking on the ultimate Thanksgiving taboo. And I’m not talking about what happened in the powder room last year after Uncle Fred found the cooking sherry and Vaseline even after I hid them behind the sofa, grotesquely fascinating though that story most certainly is. In this case, the love that dare not speak its name involves your guests and cranberry sauce.
Yesterday, while toughing out 20 minutes of enforced motionlessness as I iced my elbow, I ran across an old favorite from movieland, and it got me to thinking. Now, how I developed golfer's elbow remains a mystery as I don't play. You may be thinking it could be due to the repetitive strain of lifting glasses of wine, bottles of beer or cases of what have you; however, it has afflicted my left elbow, which is not my…
Yo, Rob! If that gig as mayor doesn’t work out, and let’s be real, the possibility of your rather large derriere continuing to occupy Toronto’s mayoral desk chair seems remote at best just now, I hear the Dolphins might have some needs on the offensive line.
Call me crazy, but it looks like a match made in heaven as far as I can tell. Of course the NFL does require drug testing, but nobody in Miami seems to be too worried about employing utterly unhinged, foul-mouthed, hyper-aggressive, ranting rage balls. So if you can kick that little crack habit, Mr. Mayor, I think you’ll be golden. And really, in terms of climate, you’d be way ahead of the game.
And by the way, Richie, Torontonians seem to like a large side of crazy with their governance — you know, in the event football is no longer an option. Just sayin’.
And you thought the Weiner/Spitzer situation was out of hand.