Wednesday was the best night of Hillary Clinton's campaign. Joe Biden, Tim Kaine and Barack Obama testified to her greatness and goodness and readiness to be president. And all saw in the Republican Convention in Cleveland a festival of darkness and dystopia.
Philadelphia -- Few in the Democratic Convention multitude knew, but Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love is known for Sisterly Affection.
Formerly classified, 28 pages of a probe into the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks are a mystery no longer.
One hesitates to discuss the small group of Bernie Sanders followers throwing tantrums at the Democratic convention. Some 90 percent of Sanders backers say they've already moved their support to Hillary Clinton.
Waving off the clerics who had come to administer last rites, Voltaire said: "All my life I have ever made but one prayer to God, a very short one: 'O Lord, make my enemies look ridiculous.' And God granted it."
If political conventions tell us anything beyond the predictable, the one held last week in Cleveland and the other going on this week in Philadelphia pose contrasts so stark that one wonders whether the two groups hail from the same country.
Well, that was sure ugly. Last week's Republican conclave in Cleveland came across less as a nominating convention than as a four-day nervous breakdown, a moment of fracture and bipolarity from a party that no longer has any clear idea what it stands for or what it is. Everywhere you turned there was something that made you embarrassed for them,
Supporters of a comprehensive state road and bridge maintenance plan haven't been able to persuade the state's political leadership that it is important enough to become an urgent priority, but that situation may change.
Most of us, if we are lucky, have one place in our lives we have seen that exceeds all expectations, that we keep in our minds like an escape hatch from the dreary routine of daily existence or failed dreams.
The self-righteousness and smugness of Ted Cruz in refusing to endorse Donald Trump, then walking off stage in Cleveland, smirking amidst the boos, takes the mind back in time.
How can anyone ever explain this to Mason? He's only 4 months old, so that moment still lies years in the future. Still, at some point, too soon, he will ask the inevitable questions, and someone will have to tell him how his dad was shot to death for being a police officer in Baton Rouge.
Here's something I never thought I'd have to say. People should not play Pokemon at Auschwitz.
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