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Doug Blough

Aug. 5 was a great day. On that day 61 years ago, my wonderful big sister Wanda was born.

Oct. 28 is a terrible day. On that day eight years ago, Wanda died. Nothing has been quite as much fun since.

My name is Doug and I am a Buccoholic.

Born and raised in Pittsburgh Pirate Land, I suppose I was genetically predisposed, with Cody/Powell brothers and nephews Buc-addicted. Admitting the problem is the first step in getting help, but I don’t want help, especially not this year.

I’ll say it again: A typical Sunday newspaper is a cornucopia of column nuggets — a guided tour through every aspect of human nature at its best, its worst and its wackiest.

Being a wordsmith, since being a blacksmith didn’t pay enough, I love analogies and common expressions — also called idioms, or “tropes.”

As The Bee Gees sang, “I started a blog, that started the whole world laughing …”

Actually it was a joke they started, but I really am planning a blog. My brilliant computer guru, Dave Beier, planted the seed, but has gotten busy and failed to water it.

Oh, I’m worried all right; I’m just not sure which worry to make my priority — my heart, my liver or my brain.

I recently promised a new photo more depictive of my current, bedraggled look, and I’m nothing if not honest.

Well, the spirited brouhaha over Dante’s radio column finally subsided. Not to stir the pot, but I just never did understand what all the fuss was about and why so many radio supporters reacted so caustically to Dante’s opinion, which I happen to share.

April 25, 2013 1:43 pm

The roofing good with the bad

A great philosopher once said, “By day the roofer doth toil and tarry; to spreadeth no anguish, he must never marry.” Actually I just made that up, believe it or not. It causes one to ponder if I might have better served humanity as philosopher/poet than roofer?

In spite of my fevered protests a few years ago, the new Sunset School was built a couple hundred yards from my place. For nine months each year, I’m now tortured by yellow buses thicker than the locusts of King Pharaoh’s eighth plague.

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