
John Boston | Dems, Diarrhea & Roy’s Old Horse
So there’s this sign at the sunny end of the pool at my gym. I shouldn’t mention it in mixed company, but, it bothers me. The sign reads: PERSONS CURRENTLY

So there’s this sign at the sunny end of the pool at my gym. I shouldn’t mention it in mixed company, but, it bothers me. The sign reads: PERSONS CURRENTLY

It’s been splendiferously mild for a Santa Clarita summer drifting into September. Not bad weather to take with us into yesteryear. We’ve a most compelling trek into the back trails

It’s Labor Day weekend. Soon I’ll be in the car, speeding toward the City of Orange for my big alleged family reunion. We’re a large and motley crew, unusual in

Dearest saddlepals? Is that you, still hugging the pillows and sleeping off the previous night’s debauchery? C’mon. It’s Santa Clarita history trail-riding time. I’ve several thousand well-humored ponies downstairs, each

I had the strangest supper the other night. Five of my friends and I decided to take a business dinner over to Malibu at this beautiful new restaurant north of

Hello, saddlepals. I’ve a question. How can you possibly NOT read a story with the headline, Miss SCV Nude Universe? You can’t. You’re powerless. C’mon. As is our Sunday drill,

As I start to flirt with middle age, more things irritate me. I used to be more tolerant of mimes, as long as they stayed where they belong in France.

A warm and western howdy to you, saddlepals and saddlepal-ettes. Amen, boy howdy. I haven’t written that phrase in eons. Bottom of my heart, it’s absolute Christmas to see all