Chris Erskine’s best columns

Man of the House: Soused moms, sauced chicken

There’s nothing like a little hot e-mail on a cold day. Something provocative.

We lost our oldest son to a car accident early March 4.

We raised four kids in this old house. There were birthdays and proms, bloody knees and Scout meetings. We changed a million diapers here. We matched a lot of socks.

Just line ‘em up and shoot ‘em.

So they arrive, these suburban kids, soft as oatmeal, raised without any real hardships except maybe their overly attentive parents and those cheap ink-jet printers that just won’t print.

Packing up Mom’s house, adding a few memories

At a gyoza eating contest in Little Tokyo, one thing to digest is how competitive eating can be excessive yet oddly revealing of the human spirit.

This General has a major thing for the Globetrotters