The click that he heard was the sound of a French gold promise ring tapping the side of the composite stock of an M89—an Israeli sniper rifle. That tap was clumsy, not on purpose at all. He could feel the immediate stillness that followed it.

Unfortunately, this left little time for each other. There would be the occasional message about how we should get together, and they were sincere messages, but it just didn’t happen. Eventually, I stopped thinking so much about her. I still felt the same way, but it didn’t haunt me as much.

Once again, the bus did not arrive yesterday. It probably won’t arrive today either. In the last week I’ve been left waiting in that hot Alabama sun 3 separate times. I’ve probably talked to you guys about the terrible bus situation here before, but it’s still happening so I still have to discuss it. I won’t keep you long—I just want to discuss a few things that went through my head as I waited. When I was in art school, in the lovely city of Savannah “Jo-Ja”, the bus ran seven days a week, all day and every thirty minutes like clockwork. I had been so used to having to wait hours for the bus here at home that I assumed that it was some sort of dirty trick.

Hello again friends, and welcome to the back of the paper. Normally, our time here is spent complaining about how Birmingham constantly lets me down or how I just don’t understand women. We often talk about fringe popular culture or I share insane tales of desperate men in unimaginable situations. We have fun. But this time I’d like to take a time-out to talk about a couple of people that are very special to me. I won’t take up a lot of your time, and I promise to get back to complaining about zombies real soon.

We know you had many choices for your cult devotion needs, and we thank you for choosing ours! We are so glad! Glad that destiny has led you to the true path! Welcome to the temple of the True Seth. We look forward to your devotion in our efforts to push the rocks from the cliff to make smaller rocks. The path to the True Seth is not an easy one. No true pursuit is. But, just as the Squid- Faced Monkey with the backwards hands rose from the glacier to bring Kenny-Boo, Patricia and Fake Seth the word of the True Seth, we must, all of us, rise to the challenge of pushing these rocks.

The thing was the Ghost of Christmas Past wasn’t really throwing a dinner party—his wife was. He had been caught up in her whirlwind of planning for three months, though. He didn’t ask many questions and he didn’t make much fuss. He just did what he was told and kept his head down.

Wait, back up. What just happened? One minute I’m happily grabbing a salad from the Ruby Tuesday in Five Points South, then the next week it’s gone. THEN my buddy tells me that the spot is going to be

Editor’s note: J’mel Davidson is back. Thank you, God. Oh, how this editor rejoiced when I ventured into my inbox the other day and saw that J’mel, after many weeks, had emailed me fresh copy. Is it b

Well, here we are a week from Valentine’s Day. If you’re a loyal reader and have been following me long enough, you know that I have no use for this sham holiday. [caption id="attachment_11847" al

Sunday afternoon—the perfect time to catch a flick. Sure, I should be in church, but I’m not. I’ve lapsed. Also, the fact that most of my friends are atheists doesn’t help. Not that it has any effect