Face Of A Homeless Man
This is a homeless person who could be housed at the proposed Wellness Center near Crab Cove in Alameda. His name is Lange. I found him in a Tampa jail – for stealing a quart of milk – after his children asked me to rescue him. He had been living
The Day I Was Hunter S. Thompson
Not A Day To Fear and Loathe On the birthday (it was yesterday) of the late, great Hunter S. Thompson – I humbly present this tale about when I was accused of being that late, great writer. (Subscribe to the blog) For those of you who don’t know about the
To Pee Or Not To Be
To Pee And Not To Be The urge to pee drives me out of bed at 1:44 a.m., but when I return, depleted, some long-lost friends are awake within my head and beg me to stay up. “Your time is not as long as it used to be. If you go
Why zerO tOlerance Fails
Many years ago, while hitchiking back from Guatemala through Mexico, I learned how rogue police tell the difference between ordinary people and those who were fleeing the terrors of Central America. The rogues – and other human predators – probably use the same technique today. Let me explain. (Subscribe to the blog)
The Night Bobby Kennedy Died
“Robert Kennedy’s Been Shot!” Fifty years ago, tonight, the assassination of Robert Kennedy bit me like a tsetse fly – infecting my neurons with a journalism disease that lasted more than 30 years. This brief excerpt from “Tule Town,” my soon-to-be-published memoir about my early years as a reporter, describes