I'm not much of a gambler. I hate to lose, and the house always wins. On the rare occasions I buy a Powerball ticket, this time, I actually “won” and learned something anyway.
A cheeky jab at pay-to-play writing contests, followed by a 1,000-word midway caper: Hope, Hopo, amnesia, and a carnival twist. Yes—Hope springs eternal.
Plinke riffs on Wicked, prequels, and pop culture: dazzled by spectacle, skeptical of the premise, and wickedly amused from start to “To Be Continued.”
Leaf-covered rocks, steep switchbacks, Allentown views, and one very good dog. A funny ode to Pennsylvania’s rocky hills—and why “rock and roll” is here to stay.
Post-surgery update: hardware out, spirits up. At LLS Light the Night with Luna, I’m grateful—and not fond of the “survivor” label. Thanks for the love and prayers.
Convalescing after surgery, I tried “Barbie” and found only brain-twisting confusion—Allan’s whiplash moments, one great Mirren line, and a lot of pink noise.
We don’t seize the day—we film it. From safety theater to the Big Lie, Rich Plinke argues we’ve traded participation for performance and shows how to take life back.
In The Chips