Cook: Lessons from a half-dead zombie
6:14 p.m. Two hours before dark -- "Today's world is so safe," says Will Jackson, moments before picking up a handful of fake brains. "Yet we all still need to be scared."
6:14 p.m. Two hours before dark -- "Today's world is so safe," says Will Jackson, moments before picking up a handful of fake brains. "Yet we all still need to be scared."
Do you remember that dog?
Mr. Mayor, I'm sorry to do this. There's a question that needs answering, yet it's not one I necessarily enjoy asking.
The training wheels came off last week. You and your hand-me-down bike already have done more laps around our cul-de-sac than Talladega.
It must have happened Monday night, probably after midnight. Because Tuesday morning was the first time I saw the five words spray-painted - all black, capital letters - on the gray concrete overpass wall on the north side of a downtown bridge.
I'm not sure when it hit me, but at some point last Thursday night, I realized, without question, that I was the dumbest guy in the room.
After 15 albums and more than 30 years of making music, R.E.M., the Athens, Ga.-based indie rock band, is hanging up its guitars. The band members' retirement -- announced last week on the band's website -- prompted one critic (Eric Harvey, writing in "The Atlantic") to proclaim R.E.M. as America's greatest band.

The federal government's Equal Employment Opportunity Commission recently determined that Paul Page, our city's director of general services, has "sexually harassed and retaliated against" multiple people employed within Chattanooga's city government.
• City of Chattanooga punished woman who filed sexual harassment complaint
Chuck Thompson has chiggers, local folks say.