Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
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You hear it every spring — “The kites are coming! The kites are coming.” Mothers shield their kids, bikers don helmets — Imagine that! — and police warn citizens to stay off the streets and listen to disaster radio. Behind all the screaming, yelping, baseless accusations and the wanton abuse of the American way of life is the fact that birds called Mississippi kites are back in New Mexico. And with them comes a hostile warning — “Break out your hard hat and hang a tennis racket low on your hip!” That’s because Mississip...
When I was a kid, I often got down in the dumps, but my mother always brightened my day with homespun advice, such as: “There are people in India who have to eat rats and cockroaches. They’d give anything to have your broccoli.” “That’s a deal,” I’d reply. “I’ll even throw in my yo-yo.” But really, my mother was just trying to make me happy when she pictured the downtrodden. Her question still haunts me — “You think that you’re having a bad day?” Years later I created a file labeled “Bad Day,” which was full of stories showin...
Bob Huber: Local columnist When the Freedom of Information Act brought to light World War II super heroes known covertly as the Scarlet Pimpernels, it exposed a dark world of espionage, bravery, and thankless hardship. The group’s name was derived from a movie by the same name staring Leslie Howard and Merle Oberon, which played one Saturday at the local theater in my hometown. The movie’s hero was Sir Percy Blakeney, an 18th Century aristocrat who led a double life — an effete nobleman by day, a hero of the French under... Full story
When the Freedom of Information Act brought to light World War II super heroes known covertly as the Scarlet Pimpernels, it exposed a dark world of espionage, bravery, and thankless hardship. The group’s name was derived from a movie by the same name staring Leslie Howard and Merle Oberon, which played one Saturday at the local theater in my hometown. The movie’s hero was Sir Percy Blakeney, an 18th Century aristocrat who led a double life — an effete nobleman by day, a hero of the French underground by night, freeing noble...
Bob Huber: Local columnist I don’t go a-Maying anymore, nor do I bring home the first gay blossoms of the greater stitchwort. But now that I’m officially seniored, I’ve thought about returning to that celebration, because there’s bound to be some good in it. But what I really like to do nowadays is celebrate birthdays that happen in May, like that of the Italian statesman and author, Niccolo Machiavelli, who was born May 3, 1469, just before Elizabeth Taylor made her Hollywood debut. It was Machiavelli, you’ll recall, w...
I don’t go a-Maying anymore, nor do I bring home the first gay blossoms of the greater stitchwort. But now that I’m officially seniored, I’ve thought about returning to that celebration, because there’s bound to be some good in it. But what I really like to do nowadays is celebrate birthdays that happen in May, like that of the Italian statesman and author, Niccolo Machiavelli, who was born May 3, 1469, just before Elizabeth Taylor made her Hollywood debut. It was Machiavelli, you’ll recall, who one day sat down at his compu...
If you’re thinking about a final spring adventure before the advent of summer reruns, zealots of the great outdoors will be happy to introduce you to snipe hunting. You probably deserve it. Snipe hunting is a traditional American exploit, ranked high on the all-time list of Things You Do Only Once in a Lifetime, like hunting bear with a pen knife or fighting a mountain lion bare fisted. Once you’ve been snipe hunting, you’ll never be able to top the experience. It will linger in your heart like warm beer or Mom’s rhubarb...
If you’re thinking about a final spring adventure before the advent of summer reruns, zealots of the great outdoors will be happy to introduce you to snipe hunting. You probably deserve it. Snipe hunting is a traditional American exploit, ranked high on the all-time list of Things You Do Only Once in a Lifetime, like hunting bear with a pen knife or fighting a mountain lion bare fisted. Once you’ve been snipe hunting, you’ll never be able to top the experience. It will linger in your heart like warm beer or Mom’s rhubarb...
Here at the Institute for Scholarly Stuff we’re looking into the vast chasm that exists today between kids and grownups. I mean, why can’t kids understand that certain things are more pressing than ankle tattoos and body piercing? On the front line of this confrontation are teachers who every day must wage uphill battles against atrophied brain cells. When asked for the most important event in the past half century, half of the kids reply, “Pickup trucks,” and the other half respond, “Naked midriffs.” So before they state... Full story
Here at the Institute for Scholarly Stuff we’re looking into the vast chasm that exists today between kids and grownups. I mean why can’t kids understand that certain things are more pressing than ankle tattoos and body piercing? On the front line of this confrontation are teachers who every day must wage uphill battles against atrophied brain cells. When asked for the most important event in the past half century, half of the kids reply, “Pickup trucks,” and the other half respond, “Naked midriffs.” So before they state that...
Today’s travelogue takes us to “Frozen Dead Guy Days,” held each spring in the Colorado town of Nederland, a high mountain village west of Boulder, about two miles up where the breathin’ ain’t easy. But let’s go back to the beginning, to Christmas, l993. That’s when a Nederland guy named Trygve Bauge — Yes, Virginia, that’s his real Scandinavian name, pronounced YUM-PIN YIM-IN-EE — brought his grandfather’s frozen dead body to the tiny mountain town, which makes you say, “WHAT?” Well, I’ll tell you. You see, the dead guy,... Full story
Today’s travelogue takes us to “Frozen Dead Guy Days,” held each spring in the Colorado town of Nederland, a high mountain village west of Boulder, about two miles up where the breathin’ ain’t easy. But let’s go back to the beginning, to Christmas, 1993. That’s when a Nederland guy named Trygve Bauge — Yes, Virginia, that’s his real Scandinavian name, pronounced YUM-PIN YIM-IN-EE — brought his grandfather’s frozen dead body to the tiny mountain town, which makes you say, “WHAT?” Well, I’ll tell you. You see, the dead guy,...
If you’re watching TV these days, you’re in good hands, because television now has rated shows just like the movies. But the ratings are a little different. Among others, they have “R,” “PG-14”and “NR.” • R stands for Raunchy. You can tell it’s wicked, because parts that caused the R rating have been deleted and colorful words are replaced with BLEEP. • PG-14 stands for Pretty Gruesome. These are shows full of chainsaws, hockey masks, and shiny meat cleavers. You can tell they are inspirational shows made for 14-year-olds...
If you’re watching TV these days, you’re in good hands, because television now has rated shows just like the movies. But the ratings are a little different. Among others, they have “R,” “PG-14”and “NR.” • R stands for Raunchy. You can tell it’s wicked, because parts that caused the R rating have been deleted and colorful words are replaced with BLEEP. • PG-14 stands for Pretty Gruesome. These are shows full of chainsaws, hockey masks, and shiny meat cleavers. You can tell they are inspirational shows made for 14-year-olds... Full story
Here’s a knee jerker for you nostalgia buffs — beware of reunions! They’re hazardous to your mental health and won’t do your liver any favors either. I recently participated in a reunion of sorts that ranked up there with all get-togethers I’ve experienced over the years. It took place at Tiny’s in Santa Fe, a noble watering hole originally located in a darkened recess on lower Water Street. Tiny’s was evicted from its downtown location 20-plus years ago when the city’s fathers sought more parking spaces. The restaurant move...
Here’s a knee jerker for you nostalgia buffs — beware of reunions! They’re hazardous to your mental health and won’t do your liver any favors either. I recently participated in a reunion of sorts that ranked up there with all get-togethers I’ve experienced over the years. It took place at Tiny’s in Santa Fe, a noble watering hole originally located in a darkened recess on lower Water Street. Tiny’s was evicted from its downtown location 20-plus years ago when the city’s fathers sought more parking spaces. The restaurant move...
Because I was so successful last week eliminating the brouhaha about gay marriages, I’m willing today to wrestle with an even thornier topic — the names of colors. What I’m saying is, if you don’t want to start World War III, don’t ask what color “puce” is, or even “heliotrope.” They sound like cloak-and-dagger medical terms anyway. When I was a kid, we didn’t have this problem. We lived by seven basic colors we learned when we memorized the name “Roy G. Biv,” an acronym denoting the units of the spectrum — red, orange,...
Because I was so successful last week eliminating the brouhaha about gay marriages, I’m willing today to wrestle with an even thornier topic — the names of colors. What I’m saying is, if you don’t want to start World War III, don’t ask what color “puce” is, or even “heliotrope.” They sound like cloak-and-dagger medical terms anyway. When I was a kid, we didn’t have this problem. We lived by seven basic colors we learned when we memorized the name “Roy G. Biv,” an acronym denoting the units of the spectrum — red, orange,...
Today’s discussion deals with the thorny problem of certain couples fighting to get married, while others are wanting to remain single but together. Is that clear? Well, leave it to the Irish to sum up the situation when they said, “Oh what knotty times are these — all civilized people are at war, all savages at peace.” First we’ll discuss the various splinter groups in these disputes: n There are some folks — we’ll call them “gays,” because they’re so happy — who have spent their entire lives underground. But they...
Today’s discussion deals with the thorny problem of certain couples fighting to get married, while others are wanting to remain single but together. Is that clear? Well, leave it to the Irish to sum up the situation when they said, “Oh what knotty times are these — all civilized people are at war, all savages at peace.” First we’ll discuss the various splinter groups in these disputes: • There are some folks — we’ll call them “gays,” because they’re so happy — who have spent their entire lives underground. But they’r...
Everyone keeps asking, “What’s going on?” and I mumble, “Nothing,” because I’m holding a tight rein on my dire predictions these days. I don’t want to be blamed for major riots and goosey pigeons around the courthouse. But the other day I again heard the beckoning call of prize-winning journalism, which said, “You have to warn them about Mars,” and I nodded. “If nothing else, I’m duty bound,” I said. So I’ll detail once more what you should know before you step outside today: n First came those spiteful birds called Mississip... Full story
I came out of the closet a few years ago, admitting the authorship of “Dear Abby” columns in newspapers. It began when my identity was exposed by a composing room boo-boo that placed my picture over a “Dear Abby” column. It turned out to be beneficial, however, because I no longer have to pretend to be a humor columnist, hiding my real name, Abby, under a bushel. It could have been worse. I might have been a cigar-smoking, bald-headed lady with big ears writing under the nom de plume “Bob Huber.” (That’s so complicated,...
I came out of the closet a few years ago, admitting the authorship of "Dear Abby" columns in newspapers. It began when my identity was exposed by a composing room boo-boo that placed my picture over a "Dear Abby" column. It turned out to be beneficial, however, because I no longer have to pretend to be a humor columnist, hiding my real name, Abby, under a bushel. It could have been worse. I might have been a cigar-smoking, bald headed lady with big ears writing under the nom de plume "Bob Huber." (That’s so complicated, I...
When I was a kid, Don Winslow of the Coast Guard was a big matinee kahuna. His Hollywood adventures led every red-blooded American boy to believe that anyone could grow up to be a super hero. And if he didn’t grow up, he could be a president. There was one particular episode that really tweaked my imagination. Winslow put on a deep sea diving suit and walked into San Francisco Bay and actually attached grenades to a Nazi U-boat, which brought about another glorious victory in the never-ending struggle against crew cuts and h...
When I was a kid, Don Winslow of the Coast Guard was a big matinee kahuna. His Hollywood adventures led every red-blooded American boy to believe that anyone could grow up to be a super hero. And if he didn’t grow up, he could be a president. There was one particular episode that really tweaked my imagination. Winslow put on a deep sea diving suit and walked into San Francisco Bay and actually attached grenades to a Nazi U-boat, which brought about another glorious victory in the never-ending struggle against crew cuts and h... Full story
