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I’m encouraged by the large number of presidential candidates this year, but that doesn’t make it any easier to choose one.
We’re too lazy for that.
Living under the unblinking eye of a homeowner’s association, I’m starting to think we should have insisted on decency being one of the covenants.
When I asked about the racial history of my hometown, I was told we had nothing to hide. But the truth is much uglier.
I enjoy my annual review so much, I’m thinking of giving one to everyone in my family.
An ancient Native American ax sharpens one man’s thinking.
As a man without a TV, I’m disappointed in those who have one—and I’m always visiting to watch and tell them so.
Headaches are wonderful.
Slashing taxes sounds like a great idea. Until it isn’t.
The thrill of motorcycling is the point, the counter-narrative to the bubble-wrapped life of modern America.
“If a man or woman, at the end of their long and difficult day, wants to smoke a joint and relax, that does not impinge upon my happiness in the least.”
The immigrant I knew best went to church, volunteered as a Boy Scout leader, and helped his sick neighbors.
Anniversaries may be an odd occasion to celebrate, but any reason to spend time with my wife is a good one.
In my dream, I pass the day writing and reading, then enjoy the dinner my wife has thoughtfully prepared and carried up the hill to me. (It is a dream, after all.)
“I suppose even the exhilaration of preaching in a cowboy hat would wear thin after a while. I could try it and see, but even Quakers have their limits.”