Old-school hog farming makes a comeback, thanks to some fine swine from Frankenstein.
Here's how you become one of those people who screams at his kid's coach.
Transgender hookers with rap sheets are successfully fighting deportation--by asking for asylum.
First, Houston's DNA lab became a laughingstock. Then its controversial director was murdered.
"I used to spend hours just casting, casting, casting, and I wasn't even a live bait person. I just liked to cast. It's busy, but not strenuous. But now my catfisherman customers are teaching me the fine art of putting live bait on the hook and just sitting there until something hits it. And it's all right. We've got lawn chairs and we just wait for the clicker to go off."
The Zen of which, of course, is not just a guy thing. Nor is the bait shop. Sure, there are women here. Kids, too. And after they've all finished browsing and buying, as they head out the door on their way to their secret hiding places—places untouched by the rest of the world's nonsense, places of eternal possibility—Bob Moore sends them off with the same message.
"Go get 'em."
Jim Walsh can be reached at 612.372.3775 or jwalsh@citypages.com