Forget E.F. Hutton. It's P.F. (Pope Francis) these days who, when he talks, people listen.
If we can be serious for a moment: The president made an error in judgment by not sending someone with a higher profile than our ambassador to join world leaders Sunday at a solidarity rally in Paris.
The White House has admitted the error.
Recent events from Ferguson, Mo., to Staten Island might prompt an observer to infer that American cops are racist and that a bigoted white populace tolerates unnecessary lethal force against minorities.
One might also conclude that the United States has a hearty appetite for the carnival barker, the jester, the rabble-rouser, the race-baiter and, lest we leave anyone out, the performance-activist who pretends to be a newsman while fomenting unrest that only he can quell.
A writer seeking profound pronouncements for a year-end column is likely instead to find herself awash in punch lines.
Life isn't a comedy. It's a joke.
If I were a cartoonist, a phrase cartoonists are loath to hear, I'd sketch a chubby imp dressed in a diaper, sporting a chia Mohawk and munching the last Big Mac on Earth while straddling a nuclear-armed missile that bears a striking resemblance to Dennis Rodman.
By now, most Americans probably have formed an opinion about what comedian Bill Cosby did or didn't do sexually to or with at least 16 women beginning in the 1960s.
Post-election analysis falls somewhere between amusing and clueless.
About that stunning defeat.
Conventional Wisdom, that self-righteous propagandist, has it that Republican House Majority Leader Eric Cantor's trouncing by an academic, tea-sipping nobody marks the end of the GOP establishment.
So much for the argument that having more people armed in public places will result in fewer gun deaths.
The exchange of five Guantanamo detainees for the release of Army Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl has reminded us of three unpleasant facts of life.
Just when you thought American higher learning couldn't get any more ridiculous, along come demands for warning labels on provocative works of literature.
Former president George W. Bush once said, rather proudly, that he didn't read newspapers.
President Obama, a confirmed newsie, has claimed to read the major papers, perhaps to learn what's going on in his own administration.
When my neighbor gleefully reported that Bill Maher had dedicated a searing monologue to me for a column I wrote about the Donald Sterling/Cliven Bundy rants, my first thought was, Nah . If I tussled with everybody who tossed a brick through the window, I'd never get the draperies hung.
When Lady Justice takes a count of bleeding hearts outside the execution chamber, she won't find mine among them.
Say what you will, but you'd best check for recording devices. Alternatively, you might check your thoughts.
The word is out that Chelsea Clinton is with child, making the favorite Democratic presidential nominee a soon-to-be grandmother.
The new "agreement" between Russia, the United States and our allies is exactly what the former KGB agent ordered.
This isn't to say it's not a good "prospect" for ending tensions in Ukraine, as President Obama said. But neither should it surprise anyone that Vladimir Putin is willing to step back from that country -- not to ease economic sanctions but to satisfy his own designs.
The handwriting was on the palm of Nina Khrushcheva's hand, not that she needs notes.
One approaches the race fray with trepidation, but here we go, tippy-toe.
In selecting Stephen Colbert to replace David Letterman as host of its "Late Show," CBS has waged war on America's heartland -- or so proclaims that Palm Beach font of heartland mirth, Rush Limbaugh.
Rush Limbaugh can relax. The popular "demon of the right" has been replaced at least through the midterms by the Koch brothers, Charles and David.
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