Mike Dorn Wiss

Better to blaze your own trail
Than to follow another's, unwinding
For in the slippery path of life
The search is greater than the finding

Rush of Freedom

  Three score and ten is around the corner and olde phartism is near upon me. Some might bitch and moan and piss and groan about their state of being when nearing their eighth decade, aches and pains being predominant, but I prefer to be thankful for what I have and to revel in the discoveries that age and experience and good luck sometimes bring me. Here in Thailand, the very appropriately named Land of Smiles, my most frequent...

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Getting Old Sux

  Like most cliches, there’s an element of truth in them. Those such as: “Never trust a fart or a hard-on” and “I remember when doing “it” three times a night did not mean getting up to take a leak” were cliches I used to chuckle over when I heard seniors utter them in self-deprecating acceptances of life’s changes over time. Nowadays, having more than once teetered to one side in...

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  Ah, yes, one of my fave subjects. Hell, one of my fave things, period, as I approach a half century of regular “toking”. I was “turned on” rather earlier than most, as my introduction to Cannabis preceded the “Hippie” beginnings of 1967 by four years.  In late January of 1963, at the age of eighteen, I took a train across western Canada from Saskatoon to Vancouver, and there...

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I Had a Friend

  I’ve always prided myself in my ability to judge character. I find it easy to recognize people of good heart, and just as easy to divine true assholes hiding behind a façade of practiced appearance. I’ve screwed up only twice in my life (so far). This is about one of those times. Hearken back about four decades as I was floating happily through my salad days in the midst of hippiedom. It was a gorgeous summer day in the...

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  I have an autographed picture from Tony Trabert, a former tennis great, which says “To the Hamburger Kid, Michael. Eat well and live it up!”. If you know tennis, you’ll know that a lot of burgers have passed through these bowels since old Tony was slapping it around with the likes of Rex Hartwig and the Panchos Segura and Gonzalez. All kinds of burgers. So here’s a thought or three on the subject, or at...

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Liza Minnelli This & Liza Minnelli That

Liza Chimes In     My choice for the title of this blog comes from the fertile mind of a friend who prefers – for a cornucopia of reasons – anonymity. It is a euphemism for “Blah, Blah, Blah”, those relatively meaningless conversations held over five dollar lattes and ten buck cosmos. They are mostly, but not always, Sturgeonesque. It is my hope that the content of my personal “Liza Minnelli...

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