Joe Barnett

They lived just twenty-five miles down the road, but lied and said they had come from far away. Sure looked like they had. Their costuming and props were Hollywood-production caliber: battered sandals; sweat-stained clothes that hadn’t seen soap and water since they were stitched together—ya could smell ’em ’fore ya seen ’em; scrawny malnourished donkeys […]

If your hair has gone gray you’re probably old enough to remember Country-Western composer Carson Robison’s song, Life Gets Teejus, Don’t It? Sun comes up and the sun goes down. The hands on the clock keep goin’ around. I just get up an’ it’s time to lay down. Life gets teejus, don’t it? We’re on