Browse Tag: Photos


Creepy staring cats
Creepy staring cats

I was in State College, PA for a few days this week. The weather was perfect for running and I ran each morning through Penn State owned farmland and around the very large football stadium, which stands there like a gigantic alien spaceship in the midst of pastures and mountains.

It was on the second day that I spotted these creepy cats staring at me from the cement wall at the entrance to a tunnel beneath Interstate 99. I stopped and stared for a moment, baffled that I ran past them the day before and did not notice them. I am not a morning runner. At first I thought maybe I was having a pre-breakfast, hunger-induced hallucination. But no. Those cats were definitely there, staring at me, thinking fiendish feline thoughts, waiting for me to enter the tunnel.

I ran like hell.

I hate cats.

Voodoo Peeps Reprise

In praise of Easter, the ubiquitous Peeps, and, well, the desire for revenge – I give you “Voodoo Peeps.”

This tasty little tidbit was written in July, 2003. Like Peeps, it’s one of my favorites.

If you’re really angry at someone today, maybe this article will prevent you from murdering them. Happy Easter.


“Voodoo Peeps”
(originally posted here: Heron Flight Rand-O-Blog – July, 2003)

Ever feel like biting someone’s head off? Have a few people on your scene who deserve to have their heads chewed off and spit out like a piece of rancid beef? Would you do it if you knew you could get away with it?

Well… Until you come up with your plan for the perfect head chomping crime, I’ve got a little diversion for you. VOODOO PEEPS! These little peckers are oh so willing to vicariously give their lives in place of the big peckers in your life who really deserve to have there heads gnawed off. And it keeps you out of trouble!

First, start with a fresh box of marshmallow Peeps at Easter time. Remove the wrapping and put the box away somewhere. Forget about it until July, when the Peeps are perfectly stale. (They’re best that way!)

Let those peeps stale for a few months.
Let those peeps get stale for a few months.

Then, when some fowl excuse for a human being gets your tail feathers all in a knot, remove one of your little Peep friends from the box. (Note: Though you are peeved and all in a huff like a hen who just laid the mother of all eggs, be gentle in removing the Peep so as not to tear the guts out of his fellow beside him. You will need him at a later date for sure. Jerks of a feather flock together. If you have one jerk in your life, more are bound to follow.) Carefully position the Peep within your finger tips, using your pinky as a perch for your sugar-feathered friend.

The perfect Peep
The perfect Peep

Step three, the most satisfying part of the process: With gusto and delight, with soaring abandon, yet with precision, bite the hell out of his little soft body and rip his head right off his mallow shoulders! Do it as a starved buzzard who hasn’t seen a rotting carcass in weeks! Birds do not have teeth, but you do! Do your carnivorous worst! Bare those canines! Chomp down! Fill his jugular with all of your venemous anger!

Off with his head!
Off with his head!

But! Before you swallow, savor the moment! Toss his little egg-head around within your cheeks! Allow his sticky little cranium to migrate from one side of your mouth to the other! Suck his little brains out and feel your frustrations flock away as so many startled sparrows!

Is that a Peep in your mouth or are you just happy to see me?
Is that a Peep in your mouth or are you just happy to see me?

Ingest and smile!

Nice beard.
Nice beard.

Feel better? I knew you would! (A little birdy told me!)

May the purple Peep of happiness send droppings of peace upon you always! (Send pieces of droppings on you always?? Nah!!)