Pique'n Yer Interest

I was an angry teenager. I skipped class, drank too much and sometimes I even broke things for fun. I hated authority and the cops, because I was just such a friggin badass, man.

I'm not going to make too much out of a selfie. I hope.

It was raining in Los Angeles. Banshee droplets in mid-day darkness.

As we make our way through the world other people change our lives. I was reminded how much a week ago after the death of a woman who became a dear friend.

Nineteenth-century American poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox once wrote that, "A poor original is better than a good imitation.

This may come as a surprise to you, but being a reporter isn't all private jets and super models. I know what you're thinking.

I posted a story on Twitter last week about drunken louts pouring beer and aiming racial slurs from a luxury box at a hockey game in Rapid City, S.D.

Sadly, we live in a world of ever-increasing deceit. Despite — or likely because of — the lightning-fast dissemination of information, ever more within our daily purview is portrayed dishonestly in order to gain attention.

The week before I was born almost 50 years ago, an unknown American musician called Paul Simon performed on BBC Radio for the first time.

As a writer, sometimes you're fortunate enough to come across that rare story that's simply begging to be told. It practically bursts off the page with the same irrepressible force you had to corral in order to put pen to paper in the first place.