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Steve Kissing

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The Tao of Steve

Winners never quit, and quitters never win. So said Vince Lombardi, anyway. It’s a tidy adage that may resonate in the locker room at halftime, but not, I would argue, in the broader arena of life. Often, quitting is exactly the thing to do, even in sports. I should know. I have bailed on a lot of things over my 40-plus years, sports included, and I couldn’t be happier. In fact, I contend that quitting has made a winner of me. And it can do the same for you, too.

Running on Empty


As I find myself just a few years from turning 50, I also find myself with the very predictable mid-life interest in physical fitness. While health and longevity are my primary motivators, I can’t deny the influence of vanity. It’s not as if I’m hoping to grow six-pack abs, like The Situation on Jersey Sh

I Scream for Justin

The Skyline Chili restaurant at Fourth and Sycamore was packed with Reds fans enjoying dinner before the team squared off with the Cleveland Indians. Even though I find sitting through nine innings something worthy of Amnesty International’s attention, I wished I was going to the game. But no, I had something even more painfu

To (Not) Tell the Truth

Feeling odd or left out? Contact the author via his website: stevekissing.com

The Bliss Doctor Is In

Since June is one of the most popular months for getting hitched, I thought I would offer some advice to all the new brides and grooms around the tri-state. A caveat: While I’m not a counselor or a therapist, I’ve been very observant of other people’s marriages, as well as my own. Both of them. Yes, my first marriage fell apart. But that only makes me wiser, since nothing educates quite like failure. While I can make no guarantee that these tips will keep you out of the doghouse, let alone divorce court, I believe they will increase your odds of finding and retaining wedded bliss across the long haul by a full 37.5 percent (give or take 37.5 percent). Though there is one other caveat that overrides all the advice that follows: None of this will matter much if you consider Tiger Woods’s multiple infidelities no more offensive than jaywalking.

Nature Boy


I grew up in the 1970s, just a short walk from Rapid Run Park in Price Hill. Its hilly topography made for excellent sled riding in the winter, and its two-foot-deep concrete pond made for some treacherously fun bike riding in the summer. My friends and I would remove our socks and gym shoes and pedal around in the pond, laughing as, inevitably, our tires lost traction on the scum-covered bottom and we slid into the water. Good times, to be sure.

Odd Man Out: Nature Boy

I've had some of the best times of my life in our parks. Fully clothed, of course.

Mr. Sleepy Head

I was an oddball high school kid for many reasons. Chief among them is that I went to bed every night at 8 o’ clock, sometimes earlier. Even though my older and younger siblings stayed up an hour or two later, I often retired while the sun still sat above the horizon and the best TV programs had yet to come on. Some 30 years later, my deep affection for sleep remains. Yes, I now stay up later than 8 p.m.—but not much. I’m usually asleep by 9:30 on weekdays. On weekends, if I’m not out, I may make it to 10:30. I’ve rarely seen Late Show with David Letterman or Saturday Night Live at their regularly scheduled times. In fact, I’m not sure I ever have. And now thanks to a DVR, I’m not sure I ever will. Even if Jesus himself were scheduled to make a special guest appearance on one of those shows, I’m not sure I could stay awake until then. That’s the kind of hold sleep has on me. Fortunately, I’m not a narcoleptic. I only sleep when I want to. Thing is, I always want to.

Odd Man Out: Mr. Sleepy Head

For some, sweet slumber is rarely a bad option. For this columnist, it's a birthright.

Oh, Shut Your Pie Hole


I see that look on your face—don’t try to hide it. Foodies are dumbfounded by non-foodies. So much so that foodies will sometimes react with shock and horror if you inform them that a steak from Ponderosa isn’t that bad, or that much different from a similar cut at Morton’s. They take it personally! As if you just verbally assaulted their beloved grandmother or something!
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