The Angry Czeck

I’ve attended a comic book convention. Once. Several years ago. The biggest comic book convention in the world is Comic Con held in San Diego. But another big one is hosted in Chicago called Wizard World, where I made my mostly anonymous appearance. Try to imagine what a comic book convention might look like, and [...]

I can’t understand Edward Cullen. All I see is a moody pretty boy with dirty hair. “It’s the way he looks at her,” says Mrs. Angry by way of explanation. I try to mimic that look – that brooding stare of a lobotomy patient – and I break up in laughter. I can’t do it, not even as an academic exercise. I’m too cool.

For all the confusion it creates on the surface, the simplicity of soccer is apparent to anyone willing to watch it for ten minutes. You kick a ball into a goal. If we can embrace the complexity and nuances golf – a sport that scores in negative numbers – surely we can give soccer a chance.

When my garage collapsed in a cacophonous din, my first thought was that Mrs. Angry’s clothes closet had finally buckled beneath the tremendous weight of her dresses and jeans and blouses. Since I fully expected this to happen, I barely batted an eye lash. But is wasn’t long before I discovered that it was my [...]

None of the furniture was worthy of public display, but each misshapen peice was a perfect compliment to the basement’s dimly lit atmosphere – which, if analyzed, would be 74% cigarette smoke, 15% flatulence, 1% oxygen and the remainder a disturbing mystery.