A contraption, hidden in the back hills of Arkansas, that produced a quart jar of 180 proof once given to me by a relative.
Local dialect. As in, “That a’ mast on yer boat, it be broke. Keep her ashore, mate. I’d a’ say she’s unassailable.”
How many there are when you evenly distribute 1000 people in 100 cities.
What you hope to receive if your boss fires you, and later calls you into the office.
Not observing Lent. Again.
What you are doing if you get a flat, and are changing it yourself.
Unable not to be able to be dressed in military garb.
An extremely lame sales slogan from a guy who has this idea for a woman’s handbag that can expand into a camp shelter.
Every which way but loose.
Photographs and Text © 2018, Timothy Waugh