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Restaurant Review: Hex & The City

If you know anything about Aspen, Colorado you’ll perhaps have heard of the ancient American Indian curse that was struck upon the Pitkin County valley. The Utes and the Payutes hexed the magnificent terrain to trap anyone who comes to visit, and somehow beguile them so they will never want to leave.   W
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Food Review – Mangoes 12.28.16

As with the start of so many Key West stories, one day two men went into a bar. They chatted and this serendipitous encounter lead us to the new Mangoes we see today. Mangoes is an old name but way more than just a fresh coat of paint. For years the corner of Angela and Duval has been dominate
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Restaurant Review – Smokin’ Tuna 12.21.16

Charlie Bauer is the owner of The Smokin’ Tuna. In a nutshell, more precisely, ‘neath the giant bowers of a cousin of the ficus family, The Smokin’ Tuna is a restaurant typical of Key West. Which means it’s one-of-a-kind, like everything else in this smokin
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The Producer

You smirked at the producer as you made it apparent you didn’t care if you upset his carefully oiled spiel. He was half-way through gouging some poor schlock for the funds to make yet another totally mediocre movie. The producer is a fat man, even his calves are twice the size of hams, and he wears laye
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Salty Angler 12.14.16 Reviewed in Konk Life

The Dangling Salty Digiddy Dog Angler, or whatever it’s called, the new restaurant, as of a year and a bit. The corner of Duval and Amelia has changed names more often than a wanted felon. The turn over was sometimes due to bad management (read: extreme cocaine habits) or
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Say Hello

You awaken, it could be any day, at any time. The clock reads one minute after midnight and that means, after some basic calculations, it’s your birthday. Sickening thought. Officially old. You don a jacket over your ankle length nightdress and pull on a hat. You do not stop in front of the hall mirror on
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The Big Room

In the kitchen sometimes from boredom you’d open cabinets. These cabinets were empty, shelves wiped clean leavening nothing but streaks. You’d rather food, you were always hungry. There was nothing apart from curvy silver pots filled with pebbles of dark sugar to be served with coffee for guests.
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He Should Not

Cross-legged he sat on a mound of moss beside the ravine when a glinting bottle bobbed along. A bottle he recognized as the finest of local whiskeys. A favorite, and he hooked it with his walking stick. Turned out within it, downed galleon, was a letter, protected from the water with a cork from County Cork,
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Fences

There was a tremendous noise as the patio doors blew open, and you blasted into your host’s den. Casually you strode through, except you were not alone. In bed, napping on that hot afternoon the tiger stirred and sat up and glared, wide-eyed blinking and evidently seething. You both stared, shocked, bewildere
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