The Trailing Edge

                  Sherlock Holmes puffed on his pipe as he scrutinized the scene. The naked man lay face down on The Ritz London hotel's bed as if sleeping on his stomach. Six knives were sticking out his back. "Murder most foul," said Holmes shaking his head. He turned to his companion, "My dear Watson, what do you see?" pointing at the bed with his pipe. "A puzzle," replied Joan Watson looking around the room. "A locked room and no disturbance to the body." "Use your nose, woman and all is revealed," said Holmes. Watson sniffed and sniffed. "I smell some," sniff, sniff, "sulfur?" "Surely now it is quite clear to one as dense as you how this crime was done." "Well no," replied Joan in a quiet voice. "Sulfur is the body odor of a demon. A demon appeared over the sleeping body and thrust the knives into the man's back." "You have overtho...

The witch turned to face the evil dragon, wand ready for battle. "Wait a minute," she said holding up her hand. The witch conjured up her make-up purse, refreshed her lipstick, and a quick brush to her coiffure. The astonished dragon stared at the witch as he furiously spouted flames and smoke. "What?" she said to the dragon, "Of course I will save the boy, but I don't have to look poorly doing it." She dabbed powder on her nose, then slipped her make-up purse into her robes. “OK. Let's get this done." With that, the battle began. The dragon flapped his huge wings twice, generating a swirling windy vortex that disheveled the witch's hair. The dragon roared with laughter, flames and smoke spitting from his nostrils. "How rude," declared the witch. "Stop at once!" she said, holding up her hand. The witch retrieved her brush, repaired her coiffure. She pulled out hair spray, finishing the job with a heavy dousing. ...

                    There is a lady in my office who has become my new best friend and... we don't get along. Her name is Sally, not her real name of course. Names are important. Names can describe who or what is named, or foretell what a person is like. None of that applies here. I chose Sally for its symbolism. Change one itty bitty letter and Sally becomes a completely different word - Sally is Silly , Silly is Sally .  It is indicative of life that one small change can have large impacts.  Choosing the name Sally says more about me than it does about her.  How silly of me. Since I have given Sally a name, I should give myself a name too.  You can call me Harry, after Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, not Harry from the When Harry met Sally movie. Sally joined our office over ten years ago. She came from some other part of the company. A promotion I think. It's only recently that Sally became my BFF. S...

It was the day before Valentine's Day and Harry was walking back to his desk at the end of his lunch hour. He chanced to look down the hallway and saw the curvy figure of Sally, a pretty administrative assistant chatting with Max, one of the production analysts. Harry had often seen Sally and Max enjoy lunch together. They seemed to be good friends. He wondered if they kept company after work too. Irritated by this tête-à-tête, Harry changed his direction and headed toward them. As he approached, he overheard Max, "...and I like the paddle shifter. It's cool." Harry interrupted, "What car is that?" Max answered, "BMW 650i." Harry said, "Man, that's an expensive car. Who would spend a year or so salary on a car? It's a foolish waste of money." Max shrugged and replied, "Some people like that sort of thing." Harry said, "Absurd. A car is a depreciating asset. In the end, you have nothing." Sally ...

Good morning, readers! Our friend Ben is couch-potatoing for awhile. He wants to learn about real news, fake news, kids' programming, "adult" programming, marketing, management, game shows, home-shopping, American cinema, and how the world laughs with us when we laugh. He's also updating his diary. Ben has a lot to say, but sometimes it requires a trip to Colonial Williamsburg for Jas, Trevor, and Warren to interpret. So for the foreseeable future, we will be back to random blog observations from The Urban Blabbermouth and Vol-E, who are never at a loss for observations, even if Ben would read them and look at us askance over the tops of his bifocals. When Ben returns from his fact-finding mission, I'll post the announcement in big letters with an eye-catching graphic. Meanwhile, thanks for reading...everything. /v