Taco Bell selling fries, Burger King selling tacos, KFC putting Cheetos on chicken sandwiches — and it started after marijuana was legalized.

Religion of Ecology necessitates that man and woman are not natural beings.

Forever, I will remember going to my cousin Danny’s high school graduation and while waiting outside to go in with my parents, I turned around to see a girl I knew, Barbara (whose family had moved earlier in the year,) standing on the opposite side of the glass from me. We smiled and simultaneously placed our hands on that window, mirroring each others hand gestures, before her mom called her to join her family inside the school’s auditorium.

There is still a bit of magic in that moment.

“For a buck,” Willy said to the bartender, “I’ll have a two-finger shot.” The one-eyed man smiled while watching Willy down the green-yellow liquid.

“Wow, that’s some awful tasting shit,” Willy complained as he gasped for air, “And here, I thought it was Absinthe.”

“We call it ‘Swamp Juice,’” the bartender said, continuing to issue his singular smile.

Next, Willy turned his attention to the unengaged pool table. Dropping seventy-five-cents in the slot, he pushed the lever allowing the balls to rush down and into the front tray.

He racked the balls up, then picked out a pool stick from the wall-stand, noticing it had an odd feel to it. He studied it, realizing it was made of smooth, polished bone.

“That’s so friggin’ cool,” he said.

Calmly, he placed the milky-colored cue ball behind the service line and considered the triangular arrangement at the far end of the felted table. Then he looked at the cue ball, which to his surprise had a green jaundiced iris and a penetratingly inky black pupil, staring back at him.

The eye blinked, then a flap, best described as a unfettered fold, slid over the iris and it’s accompanying pupil. Amid a startled scream of ululated terror, the barroom for Willy fell into complete darkness.

Willy awoke in an empty field of grass near a small miasmal pond, under tenebrous sunlight. He felt as if he were suffocating, as he battled to rid himself of the horde of frogs that canvassed his body.

Generally, I stay away from stories regarding the weather. As a reporter in 2005, I survived the lies and division Hurricane Katrina brought to the mainland when it made shore near New Orleans and I decided I would avoid any and all weather related news from then on.

However, I’ve been awake most of the small hours of today, researching and studying, after a friend made me aware of the strangeness happening in the Atlantic Ocean, over the Bahamas. Here is the basic layout from the National Hurricane Center (NHC), September 1, slightly before midnight: Hurricane Dorian made landfall with 185 mile-per-hour winds.

This is a typical report and an easy headline to write. However, checking the wind speeds at both Treasure Cay and Marsh Harbour International Airports, the highest wind readings were only 15 mph and 21 mph, respectively for the entire day.

Further, between the two, the highest gust generated was only 35 mph. What makes this odd is the fact that both airports, with their Federal Aviation Administration (FFA) regulated sensors, were less than 20 miles each from the eye-of-the storm, placing them in the highest wind zones at the time Dorian came ashore.

Now, to make things seem even more out-of-balance weather-wise, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) maintains buoys throughout the seas, aimed at guiding ships from one place to another. Their federally regulated sensors show that the highest winds speed recorded in the path, as shown by the NHC, was only 26 mph and the lowest came in at six mph.

While Hurricane Dorian is a real storm, and all safety precautions should be taken, including evacuating if called on to do so, the math does not add up. There is a 164 mph discrepancy between the highest reading at either airport and the sustained winds as reported at 2300 hours create a 159 mph conflict in the reported data.

There is no way to reconcile these anomalies, unless I want to head down the proverbial rabbit hole and risk being labeled a conspiracy nut once more.

UPDATE: The Clark County Coroner’s Office confirms that a body found inside a car on August 28 is that of Sharon Harrell. The cause and manner of her death are still pending.

Las Vegas police are asking for your help in locating a woman who went missing on August 23 in the west valley. Sharon Harrell, 53, owner of TC’s Rib Crib, was last seen Friday near Durango Drive and Oakey Boulevard.

Harrell is 5 feet, 5 inches tall, with brown hair and hazel eyes. Anyone with information about her whereabouts can contact the Metropolitan Police Department at 702-828-3111, or the Missing Persons Detail at 702-828-2907.

Sadly, the days of people using proper English are went.

The skull of your enemy is much more environmentally friendly than a plastic bottle. Jus’ saying.

Dogs are our better selves.

Call your Mom and Dad and tell them you love them for me, since I can’t call mine.