This article is part of the The Great Authors Series series.
I am quite certain this Basswood honey is the very best. I sampled a bit on the tip of my finger before my jar was unceremoniously pitched into a metal trash barrel by a round man wearing a "SECURITY" t-shirt. He was posted at the gate of the Mumford & Sons concert, supposedly manning a security checkpoint. This bullying brute was adhering to the letter, not the spirit, of a law intended to prevent drunkards from tossing about glass bottles. This modern-day brown shirt had decided my premium, raw snacking honey was a potential threat falling within the "no glass containers" policy designed to keep Mumford and his sons from being struck in the head.
In a country where such mindless adherence to dictatorial rules is permitted I believe that Adolf Hitler and his Sturmabteilung have already won. I was subsequently ejected for calling the man a baboon and threatening to make him watch video of my debate with Deepak Chopra. Feeling as low as a Warsaw Jew, I crawled out to my rented car and listened to "I WIll Wait" on my iPod. I suppose I must wait until this policy is changed to enjoy honey and Mumford & Sons simultaneously. Do not think you will not pay the price for this once I get to my Twitter, Ticketmaster.
I was stopped from bringing my own Cranberry Honey sweetened corn bread into a restaurant in Maine. I told the intolerable waitress that I prefer my own cornbread, flavored with the tangy sweetness of Cranberry Honey, to any substandard, mealy slop cake they might offer at their establishment. She told me to, and I quote, "suck a dick."
Well, Lindsay, who serves the dockside tables at Brewster's Lobster Shack and probably doesn't even have an associate's degree, it is none of your business what I have done with a penis. No, you churchy wench, I will not be messing about with one for your sake. If such homophobic and anti-honey beliefs still rule over areas of New England, then it is obvious to me Pennywise from It has triumphed.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.
Famous authors of renown and infamy find new inspiration when unexpected sponsors pay them to write. Not even death can stop them!