Joe Acton
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When I was a kid whatever was left in the refrigerator on Dad's next payday or was only a week past its expiration date, would wind up in a goulash or a stew or some kinda coal-fired casserole Mom called "Slumgullion".  And over the years "Slumgullion" just naturally took on the definition of left overs, experiments and things that looked like one thing but were actually something else. In other words, pretty much my life.  

These essays (there's around 40 of them, so stay tuned) are columns I wrote for a community newspaper, so if they seem a little on the PG side of 13, take a look at your community newspaper and see how many ads there are for strip joints. 
New(er) Slums shamelessly ripped off my blog
  • A Full-Dress Harley in the Mamalahola Rain Forest
  • Suspended? Hell, I'm Trying to Quit!
  • Mac Attack
  • Mac McKatt and Pussy Cat Grooming
Old(er) Slums
  • Cujo, Scooter and The Rev
  • Bond. James Bond Acton
  • Grab a Piece of the Curb, Clown
  • The Good, The Bad, and The Bald
  • 40 Beats Dead Everytime
  • When Your Dad Borrows Your Car, Just Kill Yourself
  • The Report Card Meltdown That Changed My Life
  • Me and My Bras



  • The Great Goulash Gulag
  • How I Didn't Get Rich Quick With Amway
  • A White Sport Coat and A Pink Crushed T-Bird
  • Mr. Stupid Meets Dr. Death
  • No Girl In Her Right Mind Is Going to Slow Dance With You
  • Tatter-bug and The Flying Body-Check
  • Closets, Jails and The Warden
  • Peekers, Criers and New Testament Jockeys
  • Unarmed in the Battle of Wits
-- Thanks for visiting Joe's web site --
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