The siege of Mariupol has left hundreds of thousands of civilians without food or medicine or fresh water. This is astonishing because it’s cold in Mariupol and I can’t even last six innings of my kid’s springtime baseball games without getting angry with myself, about really needing a scarf.
It’s amazing, but these words could apply to either Vladimir Putin or Donald Trump.
It looks like love to me — a sad, sick, perverted love, like the love that a user has for his drug. The drug was power for these two cynics, and they gravitated together because they both wanted more of it.
The Olympics are almost over. If, like me, you haven’t been paying attention, it’s worth wondering why. Sports are part of our culture, after all. Like it or not, they matter.
Then Justice Breyer, who apparently just learned that human beings tend to not live for centuries, decided to step down, giving President Biden the chance to appoint another non-hack to the bench, but a liberal this time, in hopes of keeping his future losses to that lovely ratio of six-to-three.
News item: It’s wintertime! Overshoe, New Hampshire, will soon be covered with snow.
Sometimes we need those days where we feel nine years old, where we are blown away by life and its majesty, where we grab our skates and go skating beneath the bright blue skies, where we have a red cheeked day of cold and frigid knowing we are wearing flannel lined khakis with the sweater we knit years ago and skate and skate and skate.
Too many of us grew old, but stayed young inside, and were celebrated for doing so. Too many of us valued the mere act of self-expression more than what we were actually saying,
Michael Davidow, known for his book series, The Henry Bell Trilogy, has given us a new book, The Hunter of Talyashevka and spoke about it Wednesday evening at Temple Israel Synagogue in Manchester.
Something similar happened with Bob Dole, who died recently after a long and respected career.