Top of a Santa Clarita morning to you, dear saddepals and saddlepal-ettes. I brought my own coffee and a maple cake doughnut for today’s trail ride, and I think I’ll ride cross-legged, like a Hindi, this
It’s my friend Laura Raynor’s birthday tomorrow, Saturday. Friends are flying in, some are here already. From all over the world, calls keep coming, asking for updates. Some know my
Did all y’all remember to set your watches forward an hour last weekend? No? Then you have to set them forward seven hours as punishment. That’ll teach you. On the bright side,
When I was a kid a seeming 20 minutes ago, my enlightened school district over the hill in Chatsworth saw fit to terrorize my second-grade class into submission with mandatory
Mercy me. And you guys, too. We’re in for an absolute epic trail ride through Santa Clarita history. Don’t believe me? It’s in the headline, and Signal headlines Do Not Lie. C’mon.
A friend of mine once noted: “We sometimes learn humility through humiliation.” I’m not sure that’s true. I suspect we learn humiliation from humiliation. I own an ancient scar I haven’t
How quickly time goes, saddlepals. Here we are, plumb run out of Sundays in February 2021. After this weekend, there won’t be any more until next year. Might I suggest
When the Big One hits, there’s a lovely ensemble of perfectly awful places in which to be stuck. Jail’s one of them. C’mon you bunk huggers and futon snugglers. Get
There was a cold snap Christmas Eve, 1872 Chicago. The Windy City’s hosted more frigid events than you could count on one hand, had you still the fingers. The mercury
OK, saddlepals. I know Valentine’s Day is — well. I was GOING to say tomorrow, but you might be reading this in Hungary next spring. Let the record state, Valentine’s
There is an entire passel of punchlines of what to give someone for their 102nd birthday. Creamed corn. Store-bought teeth. Use of their bodily functions. The Mighty Signal turned 102
Odds are good I’ll never win a billion-dollar lotto. But, through weddings and births, divorce and death, I’ve been beyond lucky to have a friend. Like Cher, Temujin or a
There is no crying in baseball. There are no soy products in cowboy time traveling. Learn it. Live it. Memorize. One of my valued snitches has informed me that certain
Dear President Trump — First, how the heck ARE you? Hope you’re catching up on much-needed rest and all’s hunky dory with you, your fam and loved ones. Just wanted
Top of the weekend morning, you Santa Clarita grizzled cowpersons, condo monkeys and everyone’s favorite demographic: Other. C’mon. We’ve a most interesting trail ride ahead through the historic back canyons
So I decided as a New Year’s resolution to go completely nut-job Screaming Yellow Zonkers and switch sides. Pass the arsenic-laced Kool-Aid. Fit me for a foil hat (although, with
Time can be such a strange duck. Just last week, I pointed out how my friend Bailey Haskell died in early January 2005 at the age of 95. His son
This afternoon, 5:30 NST, which stands for Newhall Saugus Time, I will again enter the science-fictiony world of Zoom. Zoom is a relatively new invention, not quite a decade old.
If you’d be so kind, saddlepals, a small favor? One hopefully you’ll all remember to repeat long after this weekend’s trail ride ends? For some of you, it can be
Well, Happy Darn New Year, o fetching and handsome saddlepals and fellow conspirators. Anyone want to lend a hand by grabbing 2020 by the unmentionable naughty parts and giving it