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Doppel Ganger

In 1993, some months after I sold my first reliable car, my second car was an
Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme which I bought used from a car-rental outfit (Alamo, I
think). The car looked good but had a curious personality—it always broke down
on major holidays and some weekends. I spent a lot of money on towing services,
and I came to know my mechanic at the G. M. dealership very well.
He was a white fellow with blue eyes and dark hair and beard; he was born in
Waipahu and lived in Ewa Beach. He spoke English inflected with Pidgin as could
be expected of someone who …

The Fuhrer’s Flight

When all six of Adolf Shickelgruber’s look –alikes were gathered together in the
leader’s armor-plated train in the early April of 1945, they knew that this could not
be a good thing, and the nervous tension was almost palpable as they ate wiener-
schnitzels, sour kraut, rye bread, and drank Bavarian beer—all unimaginable
luxuries in time of war.
The meal almost over, the steely-eyed Fuhrer with his sternly set jaw walked in
accompanied by major Muller, a high ranking officer in the secret state police.
“Hello boys,” the Fuhrer said, “You have served the fatherland well, and I have
once again come to you to ask for your loyal …

Our War with the Schanbergs
A Great Neck Family Feud

By Kipp Friedman
From 1966 through 1972 there were two Cold Wars: one fought on the world’s stage and the other a lot closer to home, pitting my family against our neighbors the Schanbergs in an updated, suburban Jewish version of the Hatfields vs. the McCoys.
I was an active combatant in this ongoing dispute--which played itself out primarily in our backyards--and may have unwittingly fired the opening salvo and laid the groundwork (more on that later) for future skirmishes. But over time, everyone in both camps would take a role in this simmering family feud, down to the Schanbergs’ beautiful but annoying collie Putt Putt, whose incessant barking from within his wire cage …

Block Leave:
Finally, we had jumped through all the hoops and gotten “signed off” by all the graders involved and were certified fit for duty in Iraq. All that was left now was the load out and we would be on our way. We were all allowed to take a few days’ leave and go home to be with our families for a few days before we actually loaded up and left for the big sandbox. But, first, we were all supposed to complete some online safety training so we would know how not to get injured on our visits at home, thereby decreasing our deployment strength. I found a ride over to the airfield where we had our only computer with online access and …

During the fall of 2005, I traveled home to the family farm where I was raised, knowing I probably would not have another chance to see my family before I deployed, and to bow hunt during the archery deer season. When I saw my father, I was shocked. I was sure his health was slipping. He looked thin and pale, and moved slowly. At times, I saw him struggle with his balance, and I noticed he wasn’t eating very much. I insisted that he make an appointment with his doctor before I left. I left with a sort of nagging feeling in the back of my mind; feeling that his condition was probably serious. Later the following week, I received a phone call from my …

Awoken by the singing birds,
I crept downstairs in the dim light,
and there sat Grandpa, silently.
His presence like the Egypt Sphinx,
purring contently, not a sound,
with eyes staring around.

He spoke to me, "Have I ever
taught you how to build a fire?"
I'd say no and smile gently,
for he had, many times, taught me.
He'd teach and lead me to the end,
I loved the time we'd spend.

The wood set in place and ready,
he would then take my hand in his,
and we'd strike the match and create
a star. Our star. It would light up
the world for everyone to see.
This is how he taught me.

Grandpa would look at me with …

My Lovable Lisa, subsequently Went through 3 unsuccessful IVF cycles and Many IUI's with no any results, I had Begun my journey by the age of 37 as I couldn't tolerate the truth Which I wouldn't have any Kids of my own. By sheer Luck I found your report in May of 2008, I implemented nearly all of your guidelines exactly as instructed in the report and found myself holding a confident home-based pregnancy test in Not more than than 5 weeks! After more than seven years of tiresome to conceive and thousands of Money spent on infertility Testings, I had really succeeded to become pregnant the natural way Not using any drugs or medicinal intervention all for the reason that of a report …

My father worked while I was growing up with two brothers. Tony and Jerry. Their last name was very Italian, and by looking at their business of construction, portable toilets, making gravel, and pouring foundations, one might draw the conclusion that they were related in some way to The Sopranos. A few things come to mind when I think of Tony and Jerry; they really loved my father, tried to help him succeed after he went bankrupt, and helped him restore his pride before he died in 1985. 


Tony was the younger of the two brothers. He and his wife had taken in 5 or 6 foster children from a foster care foundation named Downyside that was run by a group of Fryer …

Our War with the Schanbergs
A Great Neck Family Feud

By Kipp Friedman
From 1966 through 1972 there were two Cold Wars: one fought on the world’s stage and the other a lot closer to home, pitting my family against our neighbors the Schanbergs in an updated, suburban Jewish version of the Hatfields vs. the McCoys.
I was an active combatant in this ongoing dispute--which played itself out primarily in our backyards--and may have unwittingly fired the opening salvo and laid the groundwork (more on that later) for future skirmishes. But over time, everyone in both camps would take a role in this simmering family feud, down to the Schanbergs’ beautiful but annoying collie Putt Putt, whose incessant barking from within his wire cage …

Our War with the Schanbergs
A Great Neck Family Feud

By Kipp Friedman
From 1966 through 1972 there were two Cold Wars: one fought on the world’s stage and the other a lot closer to home, pitting my family against our neighbors the Schanbergs in an updated, suburban Jewish version of the Hatfields vs. the McCoys.
I was an active combatant in this ongoing dispute--which played itself out primarily in our backyards--and may have unwittingly fired the opening salvo and laid the groundwork (more on that later) for future skirmishes. But over time, everyone in both camps would take a role in this simmering family feud, down to the Schanbergs’ beautiful but annoying collie Putt Putt, whose incessant barking from within his wire cage …

Our War with the Schanbergs
A Great Neck Family Feud

By Kipp Friedman
From 1966 through 1972 there were two Cold Wars: one fought on the world’s stage and the other a lot closer to home, pitting my family against our neighbors the Schanbergs in an updated, suburban Jewish version of the Hatfields vs. the McCoys.
I was an active combatant in this ongoing dispute--which played itself out primarily in our backyards--and may have unwittingly fired the opening salvo and laid the groundwork (more on that later) for future skirmishes. But over time, everyone in both camps would take a role in this simmering family feud, down to the Schanbergs’ beautiful but annoying collie Putt Putt, whose incessant barking from within his wire cage …

Our War with the Schanbergs
A Great Neck Family Feud

By Kipp Friedman
From 1966 through 1972 there were two Cold Wars: one fought on the world’s stage and the other a lot closer to home, pitting my family against our neighbors the Schanbergs in an updated, suburban Jewish version of the Hatfields vs. the McCoys.
I was an active combatant in this ongoing dispute--which played itself out primarily in our backyards--and may have unwittingly fired the opening salvo and laid the groundwork (more on that later) for future skirmishes. But over time, everyone in both camps would take a role in this simmering family feud, down to the Schanbergs’ beautiful but annoying collie Putt Putt, whose incessant barking from within his wire cage …

I’ve always hated my nose. It is short with a wide bridge that plateaus off the tip landing with a thud. There is nothing elegant or sculpted about it, unlike my mom’s nose, which could have been the prototype plastic surgeons used for rhinoplasty in the 80’s. My nose has no structure or shape that gives it any dignity. There is nothing as righteous as a bump. It is just shapeless, with round nostrils like a baby’s. When I was a kid, I marveled at how my index finger fit perfectly into my nostril, while my friends had to forcefully cram their fingers inside.

I was never angry that I didn’t inherit my mom’s nose because it was impossible. We don’t share the same …

THE GR8T 8!


It was a small lump, nothing to be concerned about I told myself. Besides I had already done the “cancer thing” with my son. Michael was diagnosed with a brain tumor at 21 months, and given 6 months to live. He is now ten years old, healthy, happy, and strong. It was clearly someone else’s turn.

My routine mammogram went as planned. The small lump, I was told, was nothing. It wasn’t until I had come home from a friend’s funeral, who had died from breast cancer, that I got “the phone call”. They would like me to go in for a biopsy, but not for the lump issue. Something on the other breast looked “suspicious.” I immediately …

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." Matthew 5:16

One of my fondest childhood memories was singing, "This Little Light of Mine" in children's Bible school. My grandmother would take me to church with her every week and I would quietly enter the classroom where the other children were gathered. I was that child who never spoke and was always sitting next to the teacher for security (some things have changed, some things have not!) We heard stories and did crafts, I'm sure, but for some reason that memory is the strongest. I remember clasping my little plastic "candle" and all of us practicing …

Senior year of highschool. Go on and conjour up fond memories of days long past or recently past. Or happening right now. I really don't know.

I spent all my school years working hard, getting good grades, and not stepping over any person's toes. I have spent many a sleepless night studying in order to maintain a 3.7 GPA at my school. And finally, FINALLY all that hard work has paid off.

College, university, the big time, the most important years of my life to come has welcomed me into her arms like a child running for the mother. After 12 years of Catholic school (6 spent in a same sex school I hated), four grueling years of shoving knowledge in my …

Senior year of highschool. Go on and conjour up fond memories of days long past or recently past. Or happening right now. I really don't know.

I spent all my school years working hard, getting good grades, and not stepping over any person's toes. I have spent many a sleepless night studying in order to maintain a 3.7 GPA at my school. And finally, FINALLY all that hard work has paid off.

College, university, the big time, the most important years of my life to come has welcomed me into her arms like a child running for the mother. After 12 years of Catholic school (6 spent in a same sex school I hated), four grueling years of shoving knowledge in my …
Have you heard about these communities that have lawn ordinances. Chattanooga, TN has one that reads like this…Any growth of weeds to a height of over ten (10) inches and any rank vegetable growth which harbors mosquitoes or emits unpleasant and noxious odors on any premises in the city is hereby declared to be a nuisance. In Springfield, MA you are not allowed to let your grass grow 6 inches or longer, if you do it goes against their "Good Neighbor" ordinance and you can get fined $50. All this talk about lawn length can make me feel claustrophobic as if my lawn represents my civic membership and commitment to the community at large.
I awoke early last spring at 5am due to racing …

September 11, 1994. It was a rather warm morning, my daughter, Shannon, was home now. She was home, resting in her own bed, after a three-year battle with bone cancer. Adriamycin, Methotrexate and the heavy metals Cisplatin. And then there was Cytoxan. Cytoxan, it even sounds lethal. Words I’d never heard before. Words I never wanted to hear. Painful words, etched forever into my memory.
Her bedroom was a brightly decorated; a typical teenage girl’s room. There were colorful pictures that she had drawn on her walls. Pictures of her favorite TV stars, her heart throbs. There were presents all around. Just last week was her fourteenth birthday party, the house filled with loving friends and family. The house filled …

Every little girl dreams of the day she will fall in love, get married, and have children. We play act it out with our teddy bears, dolls and later our Barbies. Barbies are so much better equipped for the X rated stuff.



All little girls are stupid.

Who else would dream of the first day of life servitude with such gusto?



If ever a prisoner was heard exclaiming: “Yay, my first day of my life sentence at a maximum security prison, I am so excited!!!” they would appeal the courts sentence and placed that poor deranged soul in a nice comfy padded room instead.



Married life is hell. Raising children is hell. …
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