Perhaps because I’ve felt as if I’ve finished a couple, but my eyes have been drawn to marathons of late. Maybe it’s that irritating commercial from Marathon Oil, whose new jingle implores you to “put a tankful of freedom” in your guzzler. (Does that make the Prius the official vehicle of the Socialist Marxist Party?). …
Warning: spoilers and curves ahead Mad Men was a profound show that flirted with a profound ending. Instead, it chose a mildly ambiguous one. Which, by today’s standards, could qualify as profound. But you couldn’t help but feel unfulfilled by the final chapter of the eight-year odyssey of Don Draper. The slick adman and …
I got sick in June, 1979, on a Friday the 13th. As a 14-year-old, I knew the day was supposed to be unlucky. But I didn’t really feel cursed. Not when the docs diagnosed me with juvenile diabetes. Not when they said I’d have to give myself two shots a day. Not even when I …
Next week, I turn 50, a more passionate goal than I care to admit. And as I’ve neared that marathon tape, I’ve found myself upbeat, centered, ready to tackle the next 50 a more wizened, patient soul. A better man. Then the American Association of Retired Persons had to try to squat on the moment. …
The interesting thing about having the email address sbowles@gmail.com is that you realize how many people are named Bowles. I used to think the surname weird, if not unique. God how I wished my ancestors had dropped the “e” in my last name. I can’t tell you how many times people have read my …
I can remember five dreams in my life. Two were pleasant, two were unpleasant, and I can’t figure out the fifth after eight years of analyzing. The best one, though, atones for any nightmare. I had it when I was in Washington, DC, my last stint as a crime writer. After my stint in Detroit …
Ask me my favorite television show, and I’ll blurt out “Breaking Bad!” before you can get to “…of all-time.” But I have to concede. Mad Men, which begins its final arc Sunday, may be TV’s greatest drama. The difficulty is in separating the two, favorite from greatest. Our inclination is to defend our passions …
I believe in god about as much as I do the tooth fairy (come on, TF, if you were real, you’d financially compensate adults who lost teeth, not kids; they’ll just waste it on crap). But I must confess a love: televangelist Joel Osteen. This should not be. As the son of an atheist …
Aside from being dead before I hit 15 because there would be no insulin, I think I would have liked life in the late 1800’s. Not for the gadgets, for crying out loud (a phrase I am bringing back). Or the toilet. Nor the lack of Skittles. But the mode of transport. I don’t know …
I tend to be a music freak. Particularly dead music. So a story on the TAMI show caught my eye this weekend. TAMI stood for Teenage Award Music International, and it was held at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium in winter 1964, when I was but a zygote. It served as a sort of Lollapalooza …
The Hollywood Bowles 