WASHINGTON -- I could write more about the tax deal, but you're probably tired of hearing about it, and, to be honest, I've been too busy playing iPad Scrabble.
When President Barack Obama turned over his news conference to President Clinton like a tag-team wrestler and left the room to attend a Christmas party -- leaving Clinton to take questions from reporters about Obama's tax-cut deal -- he gave the astonished chattering classes plenty to chatter about:
To so many people here in Kershaw County he is "Vincent."
Gift wrapping -- is it a man's or woman's job?
Andy Denton was recently helping his mother Miriam move some furniture when they came across a bulletin from the First Baptist Church which was distributed on Father's Day in 1945. The bulletin was arranged in newsletter form and filled with information concerning events surrounding the end of the war and updates on many of your friends and neighbors who were serving in the military.
I have a number of favorite Christmas stories which I have told you over the years. This is one of my favorites; I related it to you long ago, but it is worth repeating as Christendom's most holy day approaches.
As I watched the sad sight of Rep. Charles Rangel, a decorated Korean War veteran, stand in the well of the House to be humiliated by Speaker Nancy Pelosi with resounding censure like a misbehaving schoolboy, I was reminded of a joke I once heard about a critic's review of a singing cat: "It is not that the song was done well that mattered, but that it was done at all."
His name is David Underwood. His call sign is "Stevie." His face is the face of American freedom. His face is the face of American power.
NEW YORK -- Thanks to WikiLeaks, even Vlad the Putin can raise an eyebrow and presume to know more about founding American principles, democracy and free speech.
Given I've had my coffee in the morning and wine in the evening, I'm quite the happy-go-lucky character. It takes a powerful event, one with a lasting impact, to grip my mood. Stoic, not quite; let's just say I'm indifferent to most of the daily world, and I mean that in a positive sense. Too often, I believe, indifference is seen as a negative.
I used to see those people who catered shamelessly to their dogs and snidely chuckle into my sleeve.
Years ago, the biggest question you'd get while flying was "Coffee or tea?" Now it's "Naked body scan or aggressive pat-down?"
With my busy schedule here at the C-I and being a dad to two rambunctious boys, it's sometimes hard to watch what I want when I want.
Leave it to the famously politically incorrect Bill Maher to get to the heart of what's bugging President Barack Obama's supporters these days:
The game was a beat-down of epic proportions. It was actually close at the beginning, both teams knotted at a touchdown, but the wheels of my team soon began to lose their grip from the proverbial axle. I would not say that the wheels "fell off" necessarily. This would imply that they simply came loose and rested in place. They actually flew off at quite an alarming rate and at last sight were still making their way down the street, women and children scattering in their wake.
Last week, I called for going after ISIL (or ISIS or IS, the Islamic State as it wants to call itself now), in full force. Admittedly, I wasn't very specific about that. Some may have thought I meant "boots on the ground," as opposed to only the air strikes the U.S. has already participated in.
When business called Tink back to Los Angeles, he decided to take the opportunity to have his annual check-up. When it ended, he called home.
Around this time of year I get the hankering to head for the hills -- the North Carolina mountains, actually -- and this year the itch is coming on pretty heavily.
Years ago, Holiday Inn had a slogan: "The best surprise is no surprise at all."
You've heard of grade inflation? Welcome to the world of degree inflation.
"No day shall erase you from the memory of time." - Virgil
It's been said, with some degree of accuracy, the newspaper business is dying. At the Chronicle-Independent we're inclined to disagree with that, at least when it comes to this paper, and I'll tell you why. Let me assure you, it's not because it's where we work and where our paychecks come from, although we do honestly appreciate it. It's because we simply are the only source our readers have for the news that really matters to them on a local, personal level.
Customers can be so demanding.
As I write these words, I'm sitting on a rustic dock overlooking a beautiful, placid pond on a coastal South Carolina island. I'm surrounded by nothing but God's creations and natural beauty.
Saturday, I watched a film adaptation of the short story, "Children on Their Birthdays" by Truman Capote, which is one of my favorite short stories. The film is pretty similar to the book with little to no alterations.
Betrothed women of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but your husbands' names.
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