For decades someone or someones or SOMETHING has been killing cows in remote parts of central and eastern Oregon. The bodies are found mutilated, some of their organs having been surgically removed, and drained of blood. Investigators have rule
If you ever need to charm me when I’m at my most uncharmable, fate of the Universe on the line or the Martians have the death beam pointed at Earth you better hit it: Bring a die-hard fan of a perpetually hopeless team from an unglamorous place
The audio for this episode is a reading from a collection of childhood memories written by my great-grandmother, Lydia Johnston, when she was 92 years old. Six years later, in 1988, Lydia’s daughter-in-law Florence typed out Lydia’s longhand an
“Boy, I’m glad it’s over. I’m glad we don’t have practice this week or next week.” I’ve never seen a coach so openly defeated after a loss. There’s no stoicism here, no talk about being proud of his players, no looking forward to next year. The