Until you came up behind me, I was on cruise control. I pegged you for another of those nose-pickers of the interstate. But when I moved to pass a truck, you sped up to tailgate me. You got behind me -- breathing down my neck -- and then you flashed your headlights. You know I …
I was sinning in the shower this morning, thinking about the six Tony nominations this past season for Arthur Miller's revival of The Crucible on Broadway. What is there about America that craves witch-hunts? Damned if I know. And I was wishing I was in Las Vegas, "the city that has re-discovered Sin," according to …
