While reading up on hypochondria the other day, I came across an expert who said those inflicted are often narcissists. I am inflicted. I am a narcissist. It’s true, and I hate it. I certainly don’t think I’m great. I mean, I hate much of what I write; I’m not
I wrote the following piece recently as a freelance assignment, but it never made print. Hence, I offer it below. Obviously, the whole gay rights issue is one I feel very strongly about. I wish I had been alive for the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s, because
I was bored, and waiting for the family. Lotsa people, lotsa butts …
The family and I spent the weekend at Sesame Place, a halfway decent child theme park that requires a large roll of cash and a unique ability to ignore repetitive kiddie music played loudly over speakers. Luckily, I had both. What I don’t possess, however, is a tolerance of cigarette
As promised, I have allowed Chris, the angry reader, to take his shot … Dude, Everything I had to say to you I already said. I find it funny that you think you can put out a complete garbage column on what happens to my favorite sports team (NEWSFLASH: the
I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve written a bunch of books, or because I used to work for Sports Illustrated, or because I smell really nice (flowery, with a touch of apple sauce)—but, for some reason, a handful of young journalists seem to think I have * An Answer.
So fairly often I receive disturbing e-mails—usually from some angry sports fans who take the games way too personally. Most of the time I reply kindly, then move on. No harm, no foul. Today, I’ll make an exception. At 4:39 this afternoon I received the following e-mail: Pearlman: It’s gotta
We have satellite radio these days, which means I spend much time listening to Channel 40—all hiphop, all the time. I love rap. Have always loved rap. I was raised on Run DMC and Public Enemy and Tribe Called Quest, and continued along a righteous path with NWA and Snoop;
Throughout my marriage, my beautiful wife Catherine has occasionally threatened me by promising to show The Video. I know what The Video is. She knows what The Video is. Yet, ever since that dark day in the spring of 1994, I didn’t want anyone else to know what The Video