Whenever you get a promotion, or a new, better job somewhere else -- as you take on more responsibility -- you leave something behind.
Psychological experts are engaged in a heated debate over a curiously underappreciated issue of our times: should "narcissistic personality disorder" continue to viewed as a mental illness? Or should we concede, in my view, that mirror-kissing personalities have become not only the norm but a national passion.
"We have tried negotiation with the (Obama) administration and legislation with the Congress -- and we'll keep at it -- but there's still no fix. Time is running out."
Seldom has anybody's scholarship kicked up so much controversy.
Someone I met during the end of my junior year of college really showed me the difference between having a passion and an interest. Throughout my relationship with this person, I've recognized the importance and value of having interests and fueling passions.
I never knew my father; he died when I was five months old, leaving my mother with me and my 3-year-old brother. We were not his first family. He had nine children by his first wife, eight girls and one boy -- five little graves attested to the mortality rate in earlier times. Many first wives died before their husbands, not surprising since childbirth was so dangerous and the mortality rate so high. I cannot imagine having more children -- especially since my father was 63 when I was born and my mother was 40. Back then, people just had the number ...
Being queen is a heck of a job.
It has been more than three years since the U.S. Senate last passed a budget. The last time Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid fulfilled his legal responsibility, Conan was still on NBC, Tea Parties hadn't come together, and the iPad hadn't yet been introduced.
With the start of the NFL season less than 100 days away, the proverbial clock is now ticking for every franchise hoping for success in 2012.
WASHINGTON -- To grasp the clear and present danger that the current flood of campaign cash poses to American democracy, consider the curious case of Post Office Box 72465. It demonstrates that the explosion of super PAC spending is only the second most troubling development of recent campaign cycles.
For those of you who noticed that my name wasn't popping up on the front page a lot lately ... now you know why.
I would shrug and say "So what?" to the latest details from President Barack Obama's pot-smoking past, except for one thing: he stirred so much hope as a candidate for sensible marijuana policy reforms but, as president, has delivered so little change.
Governor John Rutledge and his Privy Council left Charles Town in April 1780 before the British siege of the city closed all escape routes. He journeyed north to Camden, arriving there in late April or early May. That he should go to Camden was to be expected since Camden was the only town of any size in the interior of the state at the time. Roads to Camden were relatively good and Rutledge knew and had done business with Joseph B. Kershaw for several years.
Technology is bringing the magic of nature -- specifically, the majesty of America's symbol, the bald eagle -- into our living rooms.
I have had my fun with social media, but as I get older and accrue more responsibilities, the need to be "social" on the internet has declined and my need for face-to-face time has increased. My 18-year-old sister, however, is just getting started.
The laboratories of democracy are blowing up.
I have admitted in this column many times that I have become a "grumpy old man." Well, folks, here I go again. I often blame technology and the instant sharing of news and opinions on many of society's ills, and that's what I'm doing again today.
I have many colleagues who are of the turf persuasion and we have come to an understanding to agree to disagree. I think grass is a weed, they think a tree is a weed -- in nature the two aren't meant to meet. This is why only grass grows on the Great Plains and only trees grow in the forest. But since we aren't on the Plains or in the forest, we try and get plants to co-exist in arranged landscape designs we like to see.
Last week we spent a few minutes talking about being the best in the world in a particular field.
As the primary pundit at the "Harmony County Weekly Blister," I am frequently called upon to perform many tasks. So, besides winding up the cat and putting out the clock, I also write the advice to the lovelorn column entitled, "Ask the Stud Muffin."
I never played high school football. My glory days ended with the little league Lions and the gridiron of my youth is now a stand of depressingly mature pine trees across the old, worn foot bridge in Woodward Park. Like many, I now enjoy the pleasure of watching and cheering on younger generations and look forward to each new season as it plays out on our home field at Zemp Stadium. It is my opinion that we, as a community, should keep Zemp and prepare the old facility for the future.
WASHINGTON -- Lego's groundbreaking female-scientists set sold out almost immediately after it was released this month. But never fear, fans of feminist toys: A new Barbie doll, now in stock, is also shattering the plastic ceiling.
For the past couple of years, our district has designated one book for summer reading for secondary students. I've really liked this approach. It has generated a lot of enthusiasm and gotten entire families involved. This year's book, This I Believe II, is a collection of personal essays by a very diverse group of people, ranging from legendary cellist Yo-Yo Ma to author Studs Terkel. The book got me to thinking; if I was to write an essay about what I believe about education, what would I say?
Let me begin with full disclosure: I was born in Greenville and even though my family moved away when I was 5 years old, I still consider Greenville my hometown. And, as with a first love, one's hometown will always be something special. So it is with me and Greenville.
Some missing something or the other required me to prowl through closets at Mama's house. That's when I found it. I pulled it out and smiled broadly, warmed by the memories it evoked.
I am man enough to admit that I have cried more than once since the news broke that Robin Williams had died by what local officials said was suicide.
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