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Cockers own cocks for a fairly obvious reason. It is the poor man’s way out. Few of us could afford the stable fees, much less the price, of a racing horse.
By William GaitherNovember 1977I was compiling a list of what I would take with me in the coffin when along came a dog wearing a hat.
By Karl GrossmanMarch 1977After a lifetime of trying to deny it I am finally willing to concede that there are forces beyond human control at work in each of our lives.
By William GaitherSeptember 1976My thumb was out and Interstate 86 out of Providence, Rhode Island was getting hot. Me and my St. Bernard, Roger, were thumbing across America. It had been a messy morning.
By Karl GrossmanJuly 1976Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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