Evil in a woods: it really was just a random natural process, wasn’t it?
Author: John David Duke Jr
Poaching gives hunting a bad name; this is the stuff we conservationists have to bear in order to make our case.
In this I intended to tip the fishbowl a bit, and reveal too much information about us, but it wouldn’t be fair to them.
As we prepare for the inauguration of the six-week American bacchanal, running over children and old ladies for the last bottle of brandy to pour over the last bag of off-brand cranberries
I recollect it as if it happened to me, as a kind of ultimate-stakes thrill ride, defying a collective mental construct: a painted yellow line.
I spent my writing time carving out that little zone, a place for myself. The intense labor of doing so reminded me that the world is a kind of thicket.
The senior faculty member at a student-faculty retreat introduced me to the student body as a hillbilly, the resident hillbilly.
We are prepossessed to think we can capture mutability, but the very notion is futile. It’s an interesting conundrum
There exists a particular routine you get into: you scan the edge of the field for movement, but every so often, an animal simply materializes in the middle of the field
Those playgrounds and slides were built in the near memory of one of the worst things that has ever happened to the world
I cast a first shadow upon a friendship. Oh, how petty Kid Icarus! Why didn’t I just punch him in the mouth?
I hereby confess to you, dear reader, that when I consider you, I am pitiless. In what manner do you deal out in judgment to me?