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Sometimes our pets surprise us. We should expect the unexpected, as they have minds of their own and aren’t afraid to use them.

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In a recent column I lamented the preference among many people who are able to work, to not work, except on the terms they choose. This week, showing the depth of my hypocrisy, I propose that Congress declare the month of June a national holiday.

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I’ll always remember 1972. Fifty years later, three events from that year stand out: the Watergate break-in, my graduation from high school in Albuquerque and relocation to college in San Francisco, and one movie: “The Godfather.”

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May the Fourth is unofficially Star Wars Day, and very near on the calendar to the official holiday honoring mothers. Let’s listen in on a virtual family reunion in a galaxy far, far away.

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Choosing what to watch on TV used to be easy. There were four networks, CBS, NBC, ABC, PBS, plus a smattering of local stations. Each episode of any show had to stand on its own because there was no TiVo, or on-demand showings. If you missed an episode, you had to wait for the reruns to catch up.

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Two of my imaginary friends, Pathos and Ethos, can’t seem to agree about much of anything. At a recent visit to our new public library they nearly came to blows, and would have if they weren’t imaginary.

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April is the best month of the year, because spring is the best season and April in squarely in spring, unlike those half-in, half-out months, March and June. May’s pretty good, too, but here’s why April is the best.

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With all but 10 of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories no longer copyrighted, writers and TV/film producers have rushed to add to the catalog of Holmes tales. Some stay true to the original characters, others stray far from the accepted canon. Even Scotland Yard joined the fun, …

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Power outages are common and unwelcome events on the Coastside. They’re among the prices of paradise, along with fog, closures on one of the two-lane roads that are our only escape routes, and even the occasional tsunami.

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We grumpy old men spend an inordinate amount of time visiting doctors. This allows us to stay grumpy nearly every waking hour. We spend half our time feeling grumpy about the minor and major maladies that plague us, and the rest of the time being grumpy about all the prodding, poking, prescr…

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Portia and I were having lunch at the Far East Cafe on Grant Avenue. I was buying, Portia being imaginary. She’s a sparkling conversationalist and an inexpensive lunch guest.

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Visitors swarm to the Coastside each weekend, coming to enjoy our local diversions, including the beaches, the farms, the restaurants, and, of course, our annual Running of the Goats on Main Street. Soon a new local attraction will open its doors, the Coastal Museum of Unnatural History.

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This is a “classic” Quip Tide, written years ago. And yet we still don’t have an answer to Louie Castoria’s timeless question. Castoria is taking the week off to contemplate chickens and roads.

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Most of us on the Coastside realize the need to be prepared to evacuate on short notice. We don’t face the biblical plagues of Egypt — frogs, locusts, boils and such — but we have the ever-present threat of disasters, such as tsunamis, earthquakes and drivers who don’t signal their turns.

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When you hear the words “Main Street” they conjure up images of an America from long ago. There’s the old City Hall, the fire station, several restaurants, watering holes, a market, a barber shop, a bank and the local newspaper's office. There’s a general store, clothiers, booksellers and ha…

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Cleo, the CEO, smiled broadly, gesturing with open arms to everyone in the conference room. “Welcome back for our first meeting at HQ since March 2020. We’ll be heading over to Brigid’s Brew Pub for our first lunch together as a team as soon as we’re done here. My treat!”

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Telephone help lines have become all syrupy in their praise of the customer or patient. Was there a gigantic webinar for phone assistants to learn how to obsequiously flatter the patient, without providing any real service?

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This coming Sunday is Mother’s Day. It is not Mothers or Mothers’ Day, because it honors exactly one mother, your own, and it is her day. That was the original idea anyway, but some of us are lucky enough to have two mothers, or several mother-figures, or, as in my case, a mother and a mothe…

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This morning, April 26, I appeared before the U.S. Supreme Court, but my appearance wasn’t as apparent as they usually are, apparently. It was done by phone. Thanks, COVID-19.

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Watching episodes of “The Voice” sometimes puts me to sleep. Coaches Kelly Clarkson, John Legend, Nick Jonas and Blake Shelton fill the time with competitive banter, but it isn’t enough to hold my attention throughout the show.

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Five business colleagues were Zoomed — rhymes with “doomed” — in another virtual meeting. They had come to the last item, “Other,” and became mired in trite, sometime offensive phrases people use at work. (In Italics.)

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Last year, almost to the day, I and many others stopped commuting to work. I’ll return to the office occasionally, but have no desire to resume 90-minute drives each way, five days a week.

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Back in the Dark Ages, when AOL was only available through dial-up modems, receiving an email was a sporadic event. The cheery “You’ve got mail!” voice — as enthusiastic as if it were saying “You’ve got a tax refund!”—prompted users to leave their chat rooms or pause Tetris long enough to op…