Author Archive: Paul Epps

Why Great Novels Are Not Written by 10-Year-Olds

 

And look upon us, angels of young children, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift river bears us to the ocean. — Charles Dickens, Dombey and Son And so, on page 243 of a 900-page novel, the 6-year-old Son referred to in the title dies! “So what’s the rest of the book going to be about?” I wonder aloud. “Your butt,” my son suggests. Read more →

A Tale of Two Dinners

 

I took my son out for dinner tonight. We went to Hof’s Hut, his choice. I’ve been to Hof’s Hut twice in my life. The other time was the first real date I ever had with a girl. I took her to Hof’s Hut and a movie, where she fell asleep. That seems like just last week, and yet this week I find myself married with a 10-year-old son, who orders off the grownup menu for the very first time . . . Read more →

Burning Down the House

 

I had three pieces of limestone on my desk, but I was terrified to find that they required to be dusted daily, when the furniture of my mind was all undusted still, and I threw them out the window in disgust. How, then, could I have a furnished house? I would rather sit in the open air, for no dust gathers on the grass, unless where man has broken ground. — Henry David Thoreau, Walden We’ve got a number of uncontrolled fires burning in Southern California. It’s raining ash out of a darkened sky in Orange County, where I live, although we’re nowhere near the actual fires. Read more →

A Brilliant Waste of Time

 

A colleague is internationalizing error messages for a login form. He can tell you that your password is wrong in 12 different languages, even though the users of the application all speak English. “This is a brilliant waste of time,” he chortles. “It sure is . . . if by ‘brilliant waste of time,’ you mean ‘waste of time.’” Read more →

That is You

 

The earth keeps some vibration going There in your heart, and that is you. — Edgar Lee Masters, “Fiddler Jones” There’s a balance to be struck between providing a kid with some direction in his life, and thinking that he should like certain things because I like them, or dislike certain things because I don’t like them, or that he should do things a certain way because that’s the way I would do them, the danger being that even though my way is, of course, the best way, the way he does it is what makes him him . . . Read more →

Recall

 

We have a new governor in California: Does the punishment of a humiliating recall fit Davis’ crimes? Maybe not. But the issue isn’t fairness to Davis. It’s the future of the state. If the voters brutally and unfairly punish a state-of-the-art pol who overspends in boom times and puts off tough decisions until after he’s reelected, that doesn’t seem to me a terrible precedent to set. It seems a useful precedent. — Mickey Kaus Read more →

If You Can’t Stand the Heat

 

LOS ANGELES — Murderess Vidilia Spragin, who is dying of cancer and won “compassionate release” after 20 years in prison, wants to be buried in a plot alongside the husband she killed in 1982. She was convicted of setting Mr. Spragin on fire. Read more →

Daddy’s Home

 

I ring the doorbell and my son, from inside, says, “Who is it?” — even though he knows perfectly well who it is since I just heard him bolt the door when he saw me walking up. “Dad,” I say. “Dan who?” “DAD!” “Dan Dad?” Read more →

Alan Turing

 

A colleague at work asked me, “Do you know how Alan Turing died?” “He ate a poisoned apple.” “His mom always maintained that he did that by accident.” “Does his mom also maintain that he just never found the right girl?” Read more →

Who Moved My Cheese?

 

There are all these tests of my limited agility and intelligence. They go on and on. — Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Slapstick My wife helps me maintain my mental acuity by, whenever I set something down, picking it up and moving it somewhere else. This is supposedly for the sake of neatness, even though her stuff is all over the damn place, but the result is that my life feels like a non-stop Where’s Waldo? puzzle. Read more →

How Was Your Weekend?

 

Good? Great? Too short? My weekend — like most of my weekends — was a tug-of-war to balance the vastly different needs and wants of myself and the people I live with. Doesn’t anyone else have weekends like that? Read more →

Feet

 

We have a young woman at work with the most extraordinary feet — beautifully polished toenails, toe rings, and just this week she added three small faux (I assume) diamonds to the big toenail on each foot. Read more →

Great Moments in Hubris

 

I had lunch with a couple of colleagues today at an Indian buffet. When the time came to divide the check, one of them announced as he tossed in his money, “I don’t tip at buffets.” When this met with silence, he added, “And I had to ask for more water. That indicates a lack of attentiveness. So no tip.” As we were leaving, the “inattentive” busboy came running up and handed Mr. I-Don’t-Tip-At-Buffets not one, but two cell phones, which he’d left behind at the table. Read more →

In Memoriam: Johnny Cash

 

Anyone who thinks Johnny Cash wasn’t ready to check out even before his wife died in May has probably not seen the “Hurt” video. I certainly think a person in ill health can voluntarily release his or her grip on life . . . we had a family member with cancer who really wanted to die at home, but unfortunately she became too ill to care for at home. The night the family decided that she’d have to be hospitalized, she died . . . Read more →

Television

 

First radio, then television, have assaulted and overturned the privacy of the home, the real American privacy, which permitted the development of a higher and more independent life within democratic society. Parents can no longer control the atmosphere of the home and have lost even the will to do so. — Allan Bloom, The Closing of the American Mind I think that’s a good explanation of how I feel when the TV is on, a feeling that I’ve lost control of my home to an uninvited guest . . . Read more →

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