Saturday November 01, 2014
October 9th, 2014
A half-dozen senators fighting for their political lives - and their party's hold on the majority - in tough races while trying to avoid being dragged down by an unpopular president and the stark reality that second-term midterm elections almost never work out for the side controlling the White House.
In comfortable suburbs such as this one on the outskirts of Denver, school board meetings are normally sleepy events.
Secret Service agents nursing their wounds from the recent disclosures of incompetence in protecting the president should read Carl Sandburg's account of how one of their forebears failed in his assigned task on the fateful night in April 1865 when Abraham Lincoln went to Ford's Theater.
A new recruit, Brad, arrives at the Secret Service headquarters. He is fit and motivated and has taken the liberty of getting himself an earpiece and some of those dark glasses he has seen agents wearing in movies.
A Secret Service manager strolls over.
Manager: You the new guy?
Brad: That's right.
Did Julia Pierson get pushed off the glass cliff?
Writing in The New Republic, Bryce Covert suggests that Pierson's gender - she was the first woman to run the Secret Service in its 149-year-history - played a role in her demise.
Repeatedly over the last year and a half, I've written about teachers in Catholic schools and leaders in Catholic parishes who were dismissed from their posts because they were in same-sex relationships and - in many cases - had decided to marry.
Every time, more than a few readers weighed in to tell me that these people had it coming. If you join a club, they argued, you play by its rules or you suffer the consequences.
I was in the jittery Supreme Court chamber on a summer morning in 1992 when the right to abortion was on the line. As the justices took their seats, no one except court insiders knew whether the session would end with five votes to overrule Roe v. Wade, or with something more restrained.
Let's consider the walrus crisis.
They're piling up in Alaska. About 35,000 walruses have formed what looks to be a humongous brown ball along the northern coast. A mass of critters, some weighing 4,000 pounds, are pressed shoulder to shoulder - or flipper to flipper.