I was standing in line with God, buying tickets to see "Monsters University." He's a big Billy Crystal fan. "So," I said, "have you heard about these religious atheists?" God gave me a look. "Is this a joke?" He asked.
ABILENE, Kan. -- I like driving across Kansas. A lot of people find it boring, the endless wheat fields and blur of farm-implement dealers and land laid out flat like a patchwork quilt on your grandmother's properly made bed.
News that women increasingly are the leading or sole breadwinner in the American family has resurrected the perennial question: Why do we need men?
Under the Defense of Marriage Act, the federal government does not recognize same-sex marriages even in states that have legalized it. This week, the Supreme Court ruled DOMA unconstitutional. There are two possible grounds, distinct and in some ways contradictory, for doing so. The curious thing about the court's DOMA decision is that it contains both rationales.
The trial of George Zimmerman, accused of fatally shooting Trayvon Martin, inevitably and quickly devolved into a contest of who is more racist -- the victim or the accused? The question was inevitable because the prosecution is basing its case largely on the suggestion that Zimmerman profiled the 17-year-old African American, allegedly deciding he was a potential threat by virtue of his race.
A few years back I wrote a story about a Florida panhandle folk artist named Woodie Long. Woodie died far too soon and left a beautiful widow and a country studio full of colorful, childlike paintings. His style was joyful.
A revealing thing happened in the grief-filled days that followed the massacre of helpless children and their teachers at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn.
The headlines were immediate: All-women jury chosen for George Zimmerman's trial. What is the likelihood that you, a man, would face a jury of all women? What are the chances that one-third of the jurors judging you on a charge of second-degree murder identify their hobby as saving animals?
At a party a few years ago, a young reporter bounded over to my cluster of social nodders and, with the breathlessness of a born tweeter, chirped: "What's the new hot thing?!" Without disturbing my mascara, I replied: "Anonymity." She looked befuddled.
See if this makes sense to you: For years, I've argued with certain African-American people about their insistence upon using the so-called N-word which, to my ears, is, inalterably, a statement of self-loathing. They say I don't understand. They say the word no longer means what it has always meant. They say it's just a friendly fraternal greeting.
GUTHRIE, Ky. -- When determined women form a committee, move out of the way and take cover. Something's going to happen. What happened here was the salvation of a so-called railroad bungalow on a corner lot. It was about to be sold and moved, red brick by red brick, to the university over in Bowling Green, but the ladies of Guthrie galvanized and said: "Wait just a minute. This is ours."