Saturday February 28, 2015
January 29th, 2015
During her live, nationally televised Republican response to President Barack Obama's State of the Union address, Sen. Joni Ernst inserted a cute story from her childhood that seemed to offer everything a homespun narrative should offer -- except a point.
Saturday evening, I got a call that no parent wants to get. It was my son calling from college - he's a third-year student at Yale. He had been accosted by a campus police officer, at gunpoint!
This is how my son remembers it:
Are we witnessing the emergence of what might be called a new "sanity caucus" among House Republicans?
Earlier this month, 26 of them voted against an amendment to undo President Obama's program to shield so-called dreamers from deportation.
Alexis Tsipras, leader of the left-wing Syriza coalition, is about to become prime minister of Greece. He will be the first European leader elected on an explicit promise to challenge the austerity policies that have prevailed since 2010. And there will, of course, be many people warning him to abandon that promise, to behave "responsibly."
So how has that responsibility thing worked out so far?
The funeral for my high school buddy Kevin Green is Saturday, near this town where we both grew up.
The doctors say he died at age 54 of multiple organ failure, but in a deeper sense he died of inequality and a lack of good jobs.
The talk up in Boston is all about deflation while the talk down here is all about inflation.
Our sleek, techie president, whose battery dies faster than an iPhone's, was fully charged Tuesday night for the State of the Union.
As the world contemplates the deflated football scandal in Boston - ballghazi - please allow me one last moment of undiluted sports delirium. I live in Seattle, where, at least for a while, the sky is always blue, trees are blossoming early, all children are not only above average but get into the college of their choice, free. We are a city transfixed, rhapsodically floating, after the most are-you-kidding-me experience my hometown has ever been through.
The "polite gays," was how Tracy and Kathryn described themselves. Not political or loud, not obvious or overt, but understated, in keeping with their Oklahoma surroundings. Never asking anyone to think too hard or talk too much about the fact that they were gay at all. Except now they were about to ask everyone they knew to think about it, because they'd decided to have a wedding.
My mother always believed that when you signed up for a regimen, you owed it your best shot.
She was that way with diets. With aerobics.
And with religion. For my father she converted, Methodist to Catholic, and she tried to follow the script.
But in one way she couldn't, and it became a staple of her confessions.