At five years-old, it's no fun getting interrupted while you're focused on something. As a parent, I compensate for that by employing a series of intricately planned measures to guide my son from whatever he happens to be doing towards whatever it is that I want him to do instead.
I was recently complaining to a teller at my bank that the another bank down the street had given my 3 year-old daughter a stuffed horse for nothing more than walking past the front door. I jokingly asked her what gifts my own bank would be willing to offer to compete for the affections of my daughter. Then I said,…
There's a new editor in chief of mainstream news.
The other day, while sitting in our car with the windows down, my wife and I had a heated argument. Bad words. Yelling. A fist or two slammed into our Volvo's center console. Though we both received nominations, we never reached consensus on which one of us was wrong, and the whole thing blew over by time we pulled…
…I'm twelve stories up and being chased by two guys with four guns and I'm running out of roof which leaves me with two choices: I duck and cry, or I take a flying leap for the adjacent building's rooftop.
A lot of writers like to see readers react to their work—it's gratifying. But as Tweetage Wasteland's Dave Pell explains, sometimes what happens on the Internet needs to stay on the Internet.
When it comes to Internet publishing, there's traffic figures and everything else. But does that mean we must become slaves to Comscore? Tweetage Wasteland's David Pell believes it may just be a matter of perspective.
How could god let this happen? I am the Jewish child of Holocaust survivors, so that is a question that I have heard asked throughout my life. Everyone from the most revered religious leaders to George Burns playing the title character in Oh God, Book 2, has tackled that enquiry.
As a kid at my local county fair, I used to ride a roller coaster that rumbled around a circular track as songs like Foreigner's Urgent blasted through a set of giant speakers.
The friending, the liking, the status updating: Sooner or later we all grow to hate it, but we can't stop.
Sixteen years since Amazon launched. Well into an era when we can buy anything with a click. Why are there still Black Friday headlines about shoppers trampled in a mad effort to get their mitts on the latest offline deal?
On the day of the San Francisco Giants World Series parade, I headed to the corner of California and Montgomery where I was sure I had a good vantage to watch the players roll by in their rubber-wheeled cable cars.
The Walkman is dead. Long live the Walkman.
It was the first time in his life Isaac didn't want to go to Vegas.
The last place I imagined being was in an operating room following the minute-by-minute highlights of the significant kidney surgery being performed on Brian's dad.
It was the week my friend Mordy became a hero.
My friends were the first two people kicked off of an extremely popular reality show. And I couldn't have been happier for them.
I'm going to invite you into my shower for a few minutes. Sorry about that, but it's the only place I can really think these days.
The five most endangered words of the realtime internet era are: