The great shutdown of 2013 finally ended last week, with Congress voting to raise the debt ceiling and prevent the federal government from defaulting on obligations to pay bills it had already incurred.
When National Public Radio does a series on life after death, you know the question of what happens to us after we die is more than just a religious matter.
The news story was indeed shocking: A recent poll showed the U.S. Congress has an all-time low job approval rating.
Bummer. I just learned that I did not win the Nobel Peace Prize again this year. This is getting old. I was so confident this time that I had my tuxedo pressed and new laces put in my Converse Chuck Taylor All-Star high-top sneakers.
Politics is theater. The more emotionally involved people become in the story the closer they pay attention and the more they care. If anything the shutdown and debt ceiling fight gained a lot of press and campaign donations for a score of politicians. Bill Clinton recently mentioned that politically speaking conflict is a good thing, maybe not for the nation, but for rallying people to the polls.
The names Nunn and Carter were familiar ones to Georgia voters a while back and they are making a comeback today, thanks to a new generation of political offspring.
After a friend told me she had waited 3« hours recently to get her Georgia driver's license renewed and then had to deal with a clerk that could have passed for a robot - and an unhelpful one, at that - I thought this to be a typical example of a bunch of government bureaucrats who don't care because they don't have to. Where else are we going to go to get our driver's licenses renewed? Burger King?
If you are looking for ground zero in the fight against the Affordable Care Act, it is right here in Georgia.
The man in the checkout line bought a six-pack of beer, a gallon jug of cheap red wine and a frozen eggplant Parmesan casserole. An interesting combination, I thought. Apparently the young fellow bagging the items recognized the man, who had done some tutoring at the local high school.
Despite the rants of publicity-seeking bigots, the blather of Twitter twits and a national news media more interested in scooping the competition than in accurate reporting, the fact is that our American system of justice presumes one is innocent until proven guilty.
A few years ago, I mentioned in a column my childhood dream of being a hermit, living in the top of a lighthouse and writing great literature. I no longer express that dream as I subsequently received numerous emails and comments regarding lighthouses for sale – in Wisconsin. When a link was forwarded by my husband, I decided to stay away from the topic.
Has Washington gone crazy?
It looks like our legislators are about to lose one of their most cherished perks: free football tickets. Bless their hearts.
When you are governor of Georgia. you quickly learn an essential lesson: Sometimes it's necessary to go to war with the Atlanta media. It's a long-established tradition in state politics.
Again ... another mass shooting. Again ... the shooter is killed. We will never know exactly why he did this awful thing. Apparently he was mentally ill, but that alone is not an explanation.
I came of age in the 1970s. Carole King composed the soundtrack to my early college years. And not just mine, it appears. Her 1971 album, "Tapestry" is, even to this day, one of the best-selling albums of all time.
It is getting more and more difficult to exclude people who may look or believe a little differently than you.
It was like deja vu all over again.
The Cherokee County Republican Party has a blurb on its website about Rep. Sam Moore, who won the 22nd District ouse seat earlier this month following the death of veteran lawmaker Calvin Hill. Among other tidbits about Moore are his hobbies, including this: "Playing jokes … watch out. You have been warned!"
It was a spectacle you seldom see during a legislative session.
At one time or another we've all received a survey from an organization or a political campaign.
This, as stated above, is an open letter to the person who stole my jacket. While I don't know who you are exactly, you know who you are (I hope), and if you are the person who stole my jacket and are reading this, this open letter is directed at you (or someone who knows you and will turn you in).
Let me run some numbers by you.
It's not hard to identify with Utah mom Judy Cox's frustration. She was recently shopping in her local mall with her 18-year-old son when she spotted the window display in the PacSun boutique.
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