In a place haunted by ghosts, on a thoroughfare of the damned, standing upon ground once watered by blood, Breanna Mitchell lifted a camera to take her own picture. She smiled a sunshine smile.
It swallowed people up.
That's what it really did, if you want to know the truth. It swallowed them up whole, swallowed them up by the millions.
Here we go again. Same stuff, different day. Deja vu all over again.
A monthly New York newspaper, The WestView News, uses an objectionable headline ("The N----r In The White House") on a piece in its July edition, which argues that much of the shrill hatred toward President Obama is rooted in racism. Not surprisingly, the headline gets more attention than the argument.
It is a case of Supreme hypocrisy.
The adjective refers to that nine-person tribunal at the top of the American legal system, the noun to its latest act of judicial malpractice. Meaning not the notorious Hobby Lobby decision handed down at the end of June, but a less-noticed ruling a few days later.
The psychological explanation for what happened to Catherine Ferreira is neat and tidy and sounds like reason.
Relax. This is not a slippery slope.
So Justices Samuel Alito writing for the majority and Anthony Kennedy writing in concurrence, take pains to assure us in the wake of the Supreme Court's latest disastrous decision.
The signs were all there.
This is what jumps out at you in perusing postmortems of the two greatest surprise attacks in American history. In the days and weeks leading up to Dec. 7, 1941 and Sept. 11, 2001, there were numerous clues that seem neon in hindsight, but which no one pursued.
I am standing at the front door, locked out of my own house. If this were a movie, it'd be raining. Thankfully, this isn't so it isn't. But the reality is embarrassing enough without any Hollywood embellishments.
It is irreversible now.
And there's a word that should get everybody's attention.
I am running out of words.
A few days ago in an airport restaurant, I saw a scene that has become commonplace in recent years. These soldiers were sitting there talking, waiting for their meal. And this guy on the way out detoured over to them. "Thank you for your service," he said.
They nodded, thanked him for thanking them. He went on his way and they went back to talking.
What if he had smacked her one?
She's going after him with fists and feet. What if he had defended himself in kind? Or what if he had been the one who attacked her without physical provocation?
A hypothetical scenario:
Your little boy lies in a hospital bed, stricken by a mysterious, potentially fatal disease. You are frightened and in despair.
Fair warning: This book will make you angry.
Maybe you heard about the tribute Kevin Durant paid his mother last week. You probably missed the one he paid his dad.
Both came during Durant's acceptance speech after being named the NBA's Most Valuable Player. Maybe you don't follow sports, maybe you've never heard of Durant, maybe you think a pick and roll is a roadside produce stand. You still should see the video.
There was a method to this madness.
"The Grapes of Wrath" was published 75 years ago this month, a seminal masterpiece of American literature that seems freshly relevant to this era of wealth disparity, rapacious banks and growing poverty.
I have a question for George Will.
If he can't answer it, maybe Brit Hume can. Both men were recently part of a panel on "Fox News Sunday" to which moderator Chris Wallace posed this question: Has race played a role in the often-harsh treatment of President Obama and Attorney General Eric Holder?
That, supposedly, was the price Gov. Peter Minuit paid American Indians for the island of Manhattan in 1625. It's a tale historians find suspect.
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