Redneck Press with Fried Chicken and Coffee

My kid trans­ferred through every school on our side of the moun­tain. Only six, but a fighter. I didn’t teach him that. The prin­ci­pals ask, – “well, Mr. Doppler, where might Fred have learned to lash out?” Nature, I say. Too much vio­lence on this moun­tain – elec­tri­cal storms and rock­slides and pre­da­tion, balled insects […] ↓ Read the rest of this entry…