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Most of what I've written has been published as e-books and is available at Amazon. Match Play is a golf/suspense novel. Dust of Autumn is a bloody one set in upstate New York. Prairie View is set in South Dakota, with a final scene atop Rattlesnake Butte. Life in the Arbor is a children's book about Rollie Rabbit and his friends (on about a fourth grade level). The Black Widow involves an elaborate extortion scheme. Happy Valley is set in a retirement community. Doggy-Dog World is my memoir. And ES3 is a description of my method for examining English sentence structure.
In case anyone is interested in any of my past posts, an archive list can be found at the bottom of this page. I'd appreciate any feedback you may have by sending me an e-mail note--jertrav33@aol.com. Thanks for your interest.

Tuesday, December 15

Cardinals and Ugly Tats

Last night I suffered through what can only be described as a double debacle--the Cardinals looking like they'd never seen a football. Okay, so they will still probably win at least two of their last three games. But this one against the 49ers was a national embarrassment, and the color commentators will once again get to say what they always seem to say, that the Cardinals are a laugh and won't win a single playoff game. I can only say . . . again, we'll see.

Last week I watched the Suns against the Nuggets. It was a game they should have won but didn't. Bad calls down the stretch. And in all his glory, Nuggets reserve center Kris Anderson, sporting a spike-top haircut and perhaps the ugliest set of tats in all the NBA (and there are a bunch of really ugly tats to be seen). They looked like they covered almost his entire body, in blues and reds and greens. If he was looking to win the ugliest player award, he won. Then there's Carmello Anthony. He had a set of open red lips just below his right ear. What's with that? And why would any sane individual want such a thing permanently affixed to his body? I don't know. I think all the NBA tats say something really negative about those who choose to have them. Just another form of foolish rebellion against the conventiions of old farts like me.

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