Be afraid, America. Be very afraid. The Killer Cantaloupes are out there – and they’re looking for you. These serial killers have left 13 (or 16 – depends on which story you look at) dead in their wake. And there’s nothing you can do to save yourself. Well, except not eat cantaloupe. But who can resist the sultry, seductive siren song of a nice firm melon? I can, actually. But few have my strength.

Now, if listeria ever shows up in beer, I’ll be truly disappointed. Even though I don’t drink as much as I used to, beer has become my reward for making it through the week. Fortunately, from my home brew research, I know that no known pathogen can live in beer.

Beer. It’s not just for breakfast anymore.

Tough economic times are proving to be profitable for American country music songwriters (according to the BBC, anyway). I think it’s time for an album from The Notting Hillbillies. Or the Muswell Hillbillies.

Great American Toby Keith says, “I don’t write for Donald Trump.”

No. He just hangs out with him.

Personally, I’ve never been much for the sappy stylings of “pop” country music. Give me the death, sorrow, and suffering of Bluegrass. When Toby Keith writes a song about drowning his sister and somebody making fiddle pegs from her long finger bones, let me know.