If there is ever a contest for words that substitute for thought, "diversity" should be recognized as the undisputed world champion.
We may not have time for exercise, but there's always time to read about exercising. And while the motivation to exercise may not be tops, the motivation to shop for "aids" to exercise seems forever strong.
In childhood, summer vacation was synonymous with Florida. One year, in a slight departure from fishing the state's central lakes, we visited the winter home of the circus in Sarasota.
This is for the rest of us. Meaning the ones who don't have personal chefs, gift-wrapping rooms or hired sycophants, who don't hobnob or rub shoulders, and who drive the same car every day of the week. The rest of us would like to offer some of you a little advice:
In a reprieve from the horror of the most recent terrorist attack, the nation's attentions turned to the man who declared the war on terrorism, George W. Bush.
As the reporter said to the novelist: Why bother to make stuff up? For stories and characters, one needs only a pair of walking shoes in this city, where recent attentions have turned to two salacious stories.
As the manhunt for the Boston bombers reached its climactic conclusion, Americans of all hues and backgrounds heaved a sigh of relief.
We who work through colds, bad backs and low moods -- however liberal we might be -- have permission to resent those who could hold a job but don't, preferring to collect disability checks unto the decades. You see them at the coffee shop, refilling their cups in leisure, or even pumping iron at the gym.
The uncle of the accused Boston Marathon bombers got the boys right. They were unable to settle into American life, Ruslan Tsarni told reporters from his home in Maryland, "and thereby just hating everyone who did."
Soon after the explosions, there appeared on the website of The Boston Globe a video of the moment. Runners in the city's iconic marathon are jogging across the finish line and everyone is cheering, when there is a clap of thunder and an orange bloom of fire from within a ring of flags honoring the nations represented in the race. It is followed, seconds later, by another blast from just down the street.
It was a bookstore in an old house that also sold chocolate treats and bottled beer, pretty much a working definition of heaven. A group of convivial folks, mostly from the nearby college, had come to listen to Alabama author and veteran journalist Frye Gaillard talk about his latest, "The Books That Mattered, A Reader's Memoir."
The regulatory, administrative state, which progressives champion, is generally a servant of the strong, for two reasons.
I'm from Boston. Over the years, I lived in two apartments within a stone's throw of Monday's bombings. Over the years, I stood and cheered marathon runners countless times.
You know the feeling. You wake up filled with dread but, still groggy, you can't put your finger on the reason. Possibilities flitter across the landscape of near-consciousness: An exam? A deadline? A speech? What day is it? Oh my God, Boston.
There are many things to say about Brad Paisley's new song. The country music giant is under fire for "Accidental Racist," about a Starbucks employee who objects to Paisley's Confederate battle flag shirt.
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