While I’ve written about my various trips with Aga-Boom on here, my personal blog, before, this time I’m writing about the trips for someone else. My latest David Magazine piece, Clown Trip: Breaking the Language Barrier One Smile at a Time, takes the wider perspective and involves what it means to make people laugh without language.
Wow…100 issues go by so fast. With very few exceptions, my words appear in each and every issue, and in this latest one, I get to reflect on that journey. In My DAVID Years, I make reference to a number of pieces I’ve written over the years, most of which can be found either in the David Archives online or right here on this very blog.
Of course, I’d be completely remiss if I didn’t mention Monika, who not only provided a name for one of the pieces but who is often my table-mate while sitting at various coffee shops writing these things.
“A Hockey Fan Balances Loyalty to His Hometown Team With a Growing Excitement for the Arrival of the Vegas Golden Knights”
Source: Home Ice? | David Magazine
You always think it happens to someone else don’t you. You just can’t know how you’re going to feel: Angry, pissed off, frustrated, hurt, violated. I mean, I’d seen it happen to friends of mine. I’d be there to comfort them, tell them we’d get the bastards. I never knew how painful it really was until it happened to me, until yesterday. Continue reading “Parking”
The other day, I was on a long drive on my bike, going up the coast or something like that and I started thinking about politics. Specifically, about the budget and ways to cut spending. Now, I hear you asking “But Skids, I thought you weren’t political?” I know. I thought so, too. But what are you gonna do? Continue reading “Alphabet – A Skids Poppe Commentary”
I was in a bar the other day, trying to get Guantanamo to buy me a drink when this cute young thing walked in and headed straight for a bar stool near mine. I took it as a sign from above and headed over to offer her a bag of complimentary airline peanuts I had saved for just such an occasion. It worked. We started a pleasant conversation and I figured I was getting somewhere until I mentioned that I worked for a motorcycling magazine. After that, the conversation took a downward spiral that I never recovered from and I ended up leaving with only Mr. Guantanamo for company. Continue reading “Organ Donors”
It finally happened. I was doing everything right, even wearing my helmet. And it wasn’t my fault. I know, you out there think good old Skids is just whining but if I hadn’t had Guantanamo Bey on the back of the bike, none of this would ever have happened. As it is, I had to go to traffic school. Continue reading “Traffic School”