If you work at a cat shelter, you will cry. You may be the toughest feral who ever gnawed leather. You may be a flannel anarchist who spray-paints the words “eating animals” on STOP signs. You may be a failed pastor whose Master of Divinity gets a laugh in this particular sanctuary. However you got... Continue Reading →

I wonder if they write stories at the Church of God’s Love. How do they remember the hobos who rode along? It’s hard to scrape up a paragraph for the tumbleweed. The person who visits once, scarcely denting the pew, is a mystery. Perhaps his church was closed for stinkbug removal. He may be a... Continue Reading →