Daysong Grapics
Kristin Billerbeck

Ask Ashley

Why are magazines like Sex guides?

Fashion and the industry has always been about pushing the envelope. That being said, I think the envelope has been stripped, laid bare, and lies shredded on the floor. Enough already! As a girl, it bothers me that today’s women’s magazines view me as nothing more than

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Jan Flanders (Etiquette)

Fiction Etiquette with a Southern Twist Twisted Southern

Jan Flanders

Good mornin’ once again, faithful fiction folk. It does mah heart good to see y’all taking the Sacred Laws of Fiction Etiquette with the extreme seriousness they deserve. And it’s especially gratifyin’ to see that my expertise is not being wasted on a pasty-faced passel of thick-headed young’uns who don’t know their place. Just do not be tempted to overstep your bounds.

Now before our time gets away from us, let us consider this month’s question from one of our faithful readers. Ah am in great need of a sip of my mama’s energizing tonic...

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Real Life Is Stranger

The Murder That Didn't Take

Trish Perry

The saying has been around long enough. We all know friends don’t let friends drive drunk. But friends who let friends drive drunk after they’ve stabbed them in the back with a six-inch knife? That’s really bad form.

Such was the case with electrician Yury Lyalin, fifty-three, of Vologda, Russia. Yury’s a hard-working stiff who merely wanted to let off a little steam at day’s end. My guess is Yury isn’t living the Christian lifestyle because his idea of letting off steam was to join his buddy at the local bar Read more

Confession Corner

Confession from a High-Wired Book Club

Oooooh. Noooo! What is that? What’s happening? I’m shaaakiiing. It’s an earthquake! Run for it! Save yourselves!

D J Mansker

What? Not an earthquake? An unknown seismic event? A group of women coming this way? That’s all? Okay. Regroup. Focus. Inventory—donation plate? Check. Curtain? Check. Overhead sign: Let’s see, uh, Confession Corner— Only $1? Check. Sidewalk, street signs intact? Check. Well, that was a close one.

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Dr. Jim

Dr. Jim

Greetings, dear readers! This month’s column continues our six-part series called “The Six As of Addiction.” Today’s entry addresses an e-mail received from someone suffering from the condition known as Aberrant Alliteration Disorder, or AAD.

Dear Dr.,

Hope you can help. I’m a thirty-six-year-old man, happily married to the most marvelous maiden named Marge. While my workday week revolves around textiles (I’m a weaver at Wilson’s Worldwide Rug Weavers), I often wonder if I will ever wind up as a writer. Listen, all my life I’ve lived with a longing to leave my lurid life of luxurious linens and loop rugs and finally take the literary leap.

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