After making tamales yesterday, I sat down to write the instructions like I said I would. But the husks and seasonings made me stop and think. What if I just made a kit? If you’d be interested, let me know.
Frozen tamales aren’t bad. But after making (and selling) a million of them, I finally said out loud what I’d been thinking for years: fresh ones are 10 times better.
Every Fall, the tamale texts start rolling in. I used to make thousands. Now? Not a chance. But I might just show you how we did it — masa, sauces, meat prep and all.
Better Than Yelp
What started as a quick breakfast stop turned into a surprisingly great burrito, a purple soda experiment, and a reminder that friendly folks and real food still exist — right on River Drive in Davenport.
The Book I Didn’t Write
She killed my dad, made bail, and moved right back into his house like it was hers. I turned 33 years old eleven days later with nothing but grief, a van full of fireworks, and my brother Jeff. For thirty minutes, we got to flip the script — until the deputies came knocking.
Tea to TikTok
161 years ago today, war came to a Missouri town in the worst way. Guerrillas, gunfire, and a name you know — Jesse James. This ain’t the Civil War you learned in school. This is the version told from the porch.
From The Porch
It was 6 a.m. on a Friday. The sun wasn’t even committed yet. But there I was, Papa in the recliner, watching a five-year-old eat cashews for breakfast while the fast food industry told me what I couldn’t eat. Spoiler: I didn’t take it well.
Every Fall, the tamale texts start rolling in. I used to make thousands. Now? Not a chance. But I might just show you how we did it — masa, sauces, meat prep and all.
She killed my dad, made bail, and moved right back into his house like it was hers. I turned 33 years old eleven days later with nothing but grief, a van full of fireworks, and my brother Jeff. For thirty minutes, we got to flip the script — until the deputies came knocking.
I spent the day before with my dad—talking fuel tanks and aircraft mods like we always did. Twenty-four hours later, I was identifying his body in a hospital room, eyes stitched shut from a gunshot wound. His wife—twenty years younger—was already in custody.
Milli climbed onto the arm of my recliner like a ninja, took one look at my hand, and delivered a roast I wasn’t ready for. Kids don’t hold back. And apparently, neither does dry skin.
From Bible to Backroads — and Everything in Between
Lazarus was already four days dead when Jesus strolled into town — and the side-eye from Mary and Martha was righteous. This isn’t just a miracle story. It’s a story about showing up late, sitting in grief, and doing the impossible anyway. Porch-style thoughts on a God who cries before He fixes it.
I spent the day before with my dad—talking fuel tanks and aircraft mods like we always did. Twenty-four hours later, I was identifying his body in a hospital room, eyes stitched shut from a gunshot wound. His wife—twenty years younger—was already in custody.
Town’s got sidewalks, drive-thrus, and trash pickup. But I used to have airplanes in the yard and river mornings out back. So yeah… I miss it. Most days, I miss it bad.
They didn’t tunnel out. They didn’t bribe guards. They built a glider. In an attic. In a Nazi prison. This isn’t fiction — it’s one of the wildest true stories from WWII you’ve never heard. And it never even left the roof.
Milli climbed onto the arm of my recliner like a ninja, took one look at my hand, and delivered a roast I wasn’t ready for. Kids don’t hold back. And apparently, neither does dry skin.
From red carpets to small towns, everyone’s lining up for weight-loss shots like Ozempic. They’re pricey, don’t work for everyone, and come with side effects that sound worse than the donuts they replace. I take a porch-swing look at America’s latest miracle fix.
We were promised robot overlords with lasers. Instead, they showed up with Pinterest boards and paintbrushes. From AI writers to voice bots to logo generators, Mark weighs in on the slow death of real creativity — porch style.
Remember when weed was weak and smelled like your cousin's sock drawer? Not anymore. Today's cannabis is potent, packaged, and sold legally in half the country — no medical card needed. So why are we still pretending it's just a plant?
Judah promised Tamar a husband. Then ghosted her. So she covered her face, dressed like a prostitute, and tricked her way into justice — and a whole bloodline. Genesis 38 isn’t a love story. It’s a survival story.
Micah stole from his mama, then made a silver idol to make up for it. Then he hired a priest like it was a part-time job listing. Then a whole tribe came through and said, “Cool setup — we’ll take it.” That’s Judges 17–18 in a nutshell. You can’t make this stuff up.
Not your average review section. Better Than Yelp is where we tell porch-style stories about local businesses — the people, the places, and the grind behind Main Street. No stars, no fake hype. Just the good, the bad, and the honest.
Two colonies. One came chasing gold, the other came chasing God. Both got hit with disease, death, and a brutal reminder that starting a new world isn’t all turkey dinners and campfire songs. Welcome to the real beginning of America.