Posted: December 30, 2008
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The night was moist and clingy like a BBQ-sauce-smeared wet nap. A damp chill hung in the air like a BBQ-sauce-smeared wet nap. OK, I’m out of similes. I got nothing. As fate would have it, there were far too many eateries and drinkeries within walking distance of our hotel to do any justice to the ghosts of Gettysburg. In a spirits vs. spirits grudge-match in my world, the carboxyl group version trumps ectoplasm every time. Some people shake at the sight of spirits; I shake when I don’t get enough of the other kind.
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Posted: December 2, 2015
Las Vegas, NV—I knew being Zano-free couldn’t last forever, but I did enjoy my peaceful six month stretch. When the inevitable phone call came, he wanted to know the location of our next Vegas-style ghost investigation. For some reason Zano feels it’s my responsibility to arrange these “important” endeavors. As if living in Las Vegas…
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