Craig Tyson Adams

  ONCE YOU FACE IT, THEN YOU’LL KNOW IT. It’s all in the genes. It all started with a muffin. There were a couple of pizza boxes and brown paper bags stacked on the kitchen counter. Whenever there is a mess like that, even a structured mess, it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I grabbed it all and threw it out. The muffin was in the bottom of one of the bags. My wife wanted that muffin. I bought it for her that morning. It was when she asked about it, that I started thinking about why I had this unthinking reflex to throw away the clutter. I’m like a shark. It’s like a seek and destroy mission. It dawned on me that something genetically induced the reaction. My father had an infuriating ability to throw away anything he deemed unnecessary that was lying around. That included me. If he caught me lying around, he attempted to throw me. That’s the thing with genetics. As much as we swear to ourselves that we won’t be like other members of our family, we end up doing the th

  MORE HAMS THAN A SUPERMARKET An arrested stage of development One way to get out of your comfort zone is getting up on stage. Go to your local community theatre and risk embarrassing yourself by auditioning. By the time you’re finished, the fear will be gone and relief will replace it. You’ll be relieved because your dentist and the town veterinarian are there as well. It’s amazing to find that everyone where you live thinks they can act. It’s true! Some are born comedians, even though they don’t mean to be. Others are trying to be funny, but play out as dull as standing in line. Everyone has a role! The shows that I have been in have set the theatre back 100 years, in that they would’ve played well a hundred years ago. They were melodramas placed back when the city I lived in, San Juan Capistrano, was a sleepy village established by a catholic mission that had a vineyard to keep the villagers happy. A friend of mine, Leonard Wigmore, wrote and directed the show. Wiggy was the local

  LAUNDROMAT LAMENTATIONS A washer and dryer sense of humor The whiff that made the olfactory reflex snap jarringly was emanating from somewhere deep in the recesses of the closet. Namely, my clothes hamper. After the initial shock of the dank mixture that hits your otolaryngological system, (that means your eyes, ears, nose and throat system, I know!, I just learned that too!), there is a prideful reassurance that what you’re smelling belongs to you. It’s almost comforting once you get over the offense of what it is. If you were to walk into someone else's mixture of sweaty cotton blend and whatever else, you’d immediately finger clothespin your nose and spin on your heels to escape and exclaim your displeasure! But, since what is stale and reposing in your laundry basket results from your strenuous physical exertions, a fierce pride foists its way forward because this result is what you were striving for. The stink of your activity is a sure sign of personal victory. You’ve set

  Enterprise knows no bounds A flyer on the community mailbox brought up the notion that someone had shaken the visions of what they believed could be possible. As if the boundaries that we perceive to ground us by ponderous gravity release themselves like the tentacles of an imagined giant man-eating octopus that has capitulated and surrendered. The flyer read ‘No Job Too Big Or Too Small’ and listed a phone number. No references or pictures of previous successful projects or even a photo of the person making the proposal. Many people trust themselves to begin an enterprise that will ease the boredom and drudgery of a, for lack of a better phrase, normal occupation. There are heaps of attempts that flounder because of financial concerns or concerns of family members who are concerned that the would be entrepreneurs don’t have what they need to undertake a business concern, as far as that is concerned. The aforementioned flyer on the mailbox refers to a paper flyer that appeared as an

WHAT’S IT ALL MEAN? He has it all, but something is missing “Who’s that over there!?!” Instinct taking over, Luke tells his fellas to stay out while he rushes to where the sound came from. If it’s one of Roman’s crew, Luke wants to handle it himself. As he slips through a pile of gore, he hears a voice, a woman’s voice. “I saw nothing, I swear!” She’s laying on the floor leaning against the body with its throat cut and a smile comes to Luke’s face. “Wadiya mean you saw nothing? You’re laying in the middle of it. C’mon, get up.” Luke helps the young woman to her feet as she babbles, but something clicks in Luke’s mind. He knows he has to get rid of her because she’s the only witness. Looking at her, an unfamiliar feeling washes over him. He hasn’t felt this in a long, long time. Luke has done the best he could throughout his adult life to repress it, but he remembers an old pet dog he felt empathy for when he was a kid. The animal had to be put down and Luke was so attached to it that t

  Iconoclastic Irving I bet you thought it couldn’t get weirder What the hell is up with Kyrie Irving ? His recent posts and statements with anti-Semitic overtones are way out of line. Irving’s refusal to consider an apology shows a lack of empathy for humanity. One thing is clear, he’s not boring. If you write about sports, there won’t be a few weeks that go by that he’s not generating a story somehow or some way. Is he just putting us all on, or is there some kind of psychological misfire that’s happening? Irving, who plays point guard for the NBA’s Brooklyn Nets , is a superiorly talented player. He can do things on the floor with the ball in his hands that other players wish they could do. Kyrie has also was traded multiple times and is also a bit of a coach killer. He’s played for nine different coaches in his twelve year career. His current team, the Brooklyn Nets troika of talent comprising Irving, Kevin Durant , and Ben Simmons should be favorites to win the leagues Eastern

BIRDS ARE FOWL It’s for the birds There’s a fight going on in Florida about what the official state bird should be. It doesn’t matter what the details are. What matters is the question of why does there have to be a state bird in the first place? State birds don’t bring in revenue. I get that there are people obsessed with birds. They might travel to the state to see the bird. Bird watchers might spend a few bucks on gas and motels. They’ll buy food and maybe some bird seed. But, other than that, the money brought in by state birds is negligible. It’s not like the birds can go out and sell advertising or make contributions to political campaigns. Why make a fuss about state birds? Now I could understand if the state bird was some sort of a dirty bird that had a poor reputation. Crows used to wake me up at daybreak. It was needless and annoying. I’d go out and throw rocks at them until they surmised I couldn’t hit them.  They’d just caw until my shoulder yelled at me more than they did.