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Our fear of tooth decay is functional; of saber-tooth tigers is not; of decay—or for that matter decadence—as a destination, can’t keep us from turning into soup bones and stew. It might save us some pain if being afraid kept us from visiting the dentist, but once we’re in the chair, it only makes things worse. Read the rest of this entry »

Yesterday I was grazing and cruising the heifers in clover. This morning I stand at the edge of the bull ring in sawdust and bullshit and sand, listening to music to salute an armada, triumphant strains for a dusty empire from trumpeters sniffing for blood. Read the rest of this entry »

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The pen name davidbdale honors my mother Beatrice (Bea) and my father Dale

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