The fever appears to be breaking. The Tea Party movement, much like the Know Nothing Party of 150 years ago, will soon have run its obstructionist course. As is the case with most national trends, that fever will break last in Mississippi, which seems to be on a perpetual two-year time-delay for most national trends.
On behalf of parents of children in the Starkville School District (SSD), we oppose House Bill 716, which provides for consolidation of the Starkville School District and the Oktibbeha County School District (OCSD).
On Tuesday night, the Columbus City Council had four choices for one position on the Columbus Municipal School District Board of Trustees. But really, it came down to two choices: maintaining the status quo that has seen our schools slide toward failure or taking a path forward.
Both the Mississippi House and the Senate have approved a bill that saddles one-third of Mississippi's homes and businesses with a billion dollars in debt relating to the Kemper power plant. If Gov. Phil Bryant signs the bill, it will become law.
When the argument passed the boiling point, John Alan Redden used a belt to make his point. His wife at the time, Ginger Redden, had the bruises and welts to show for it -- her left arm a mass of discolored bruises extending from her shoulder to her elbow, bruises on the small of her back and legs, a welt bearing the impression of the belt buckle on her cheek.
Lunch hour in the South Lake Union neighborhood. Workers walk dogs they can take to the office. Lines form in hip restaurants. Something big is going on here, but the only sure sign of a major employer is the many blue ID cards hanging out of jackets.
As an avid MSU fan and basketball season ticket holder for the past 30 years I take issue with the thorn you awarded to MSU athletic director Scott Sticklin in Sunday's paper.
"You," said Jack Nicholson's Jessep to Tom Cruise's Kaffee, "have the luxury of not knowing what I know." Viewers of the movie "Zero Dark Thirty " will, according to some informed persons, lose the luxury of not knowing about hard but morally defensible things done on their behalf.
It all started about three days before. The rains were torrential and the lake was so full that most of the center stumps were submerged. "Sam, I think the spillway is dammed up. The water is high." After work Sam took the gator to the spillway and sure enough a beaver had dammed the flow again. In drizzling rain Sam shoveled out the dam and checked the beaver trap. No beaver. "Did you see Leah?" I asked.
When reporter Carmen Sisson, whose story about Magnolia Bowl appears in today's Dispatch, asked me about the old stadium, she unleashed a flood of memories.
Sometimes research and writing takes you in unexpected directions, and that is the case today. As I started writing this column, I stumbled into one of those poignant stories of long ago that touches a present-day nerve.
In the 12 months we have to steel ourselves for the next State of the Union spectacle, let us count the ways that this spawn of democratic Caesarism -- presidency worship -- has become grotesque. It would be the most embarrassing ceremony in the nation's civic liturgy, were the nation still capable of being embarrassed by its puerile faith in presidential magic.
So it turns out Chris Christie is fat. If, somehow, that fact had escaped you before, surely it came slamming home recently after he appeared on "The Late Show with David Letterman." There was the 50-year-old governor of New Jersey jokingly snacking on a doughnut as the talk-show host -- who has taken a jab or two at Christie's weight -- gently asked him about his girth. The bit was in keeping with how Christie usually deals with weight-related humor. He seems to feel the best defense is a good fat joke.
PASS CHRISTIAN -- Four different groups have ventured to our new holiday home on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. One found it. I've carefully typed out the same detailed instructions for all travelers, giving the benefit of my considerable experience finding the shortest route. All four carloads ignored my directions and relied on some kind of global positioning gadget in their computers, telephones or cars.
Before Ronald Reagan traveled the 16 blocks to the White House after his first inaugural address, the White House curator had, at the new president's instruction, hung in the Cabinet room a portrait of Calvin Coolidge. The Great Communicator knew that "Silent Cal" could use words powerfully -- 15 of them made him a national figure -- because he was economical in their use, as in all things.
"Obama says he's going to make middle-class jobs," the breakfast room troubadour bellowed at the Holiday Inn Express to those who wanted to listen -- and to those who didn't. "Did he make your job?" he went on, cornering a female employee. "Private companies make jobs." The commentary was not entirely wrong.
Writing about love is a tricky thing, especially since my wife might read this column. Fortunately, I heard New Hope Baptist Church minister Jerry Young speak at the Jackson Rotary Club today. His topic was love and marriage. I can't put it any better than he did.
It is unfortunate that Valentine's Day fell on a Thursday this year, rather than a Monday or Tuesday.
The following is a crashing generalization, but here goes: When it comes to how we dress, there are serious gender inequities -- in standards of comfort and in body exposure. Valentine's Day underscores a third that rankles just as much: inequality of effort. Go to any romantic restaurant on Valentine's Day, and observe. The girls are dressed for festivity, and the boys are dressed for walking the dog.
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