Newspapers have become the bullied school kid of American journalism.
"Surrender, Dorothy!" -- the Wicked Witch in "The Wizard of Oz"
No it was not the most excruciating thing ever seen on television. We've seen worse.
Dear Anthony Weiner:
Just go. Don't bother to explain. We've already heard enough. Just go. Don't write a book about it. No tree should die for that. Just go.
Perhaps you've heard of it. As fast-food workers around the country protest for higher wages, we learn that McDonald's offers advice to help them live on the wages they make that, while not technically bupkes, do amount to a paycheck you can pretty much have the driver cash for you on the bus ride home.
I am Trayvon Martin. Distill it to its marrow, and that is what African-Americans have been telling other Americans since February 2012, when the unarmed teenager was stalked and killed by George Zimmerman, who, for no good reason, thought him suspicious. And it is essentially what President Obama said in an impromptu appearance in the White House press room last week.
Sometimes, the directness of children is unsettling.
They just have this way of making things plain.
Four words of advice for African Americans in the wake of George Zimmerman’s acquittal: Wake the hell up.
As Christina Cordero remembers it, the doctor would not take no for an answer.
"As soon as he found out that I had five kids, he suggested that I look into getting it done. The closer I got to my due date, the more he talked about it. He made me feel like a bad mother if I didn't do it."
Mohandas Gandhi went to Yeravda Central Prison. Martin Luther King Jr., went to Birmingham jail. Nelson Mandela went to Robben Island. Edward Snowden is going to Venezuela.
I was standing in line with God, buying tickets to see "Monsters University." He's a big Billy Crystal fan.
Last week was bittersweet for the cause of human dignity.
For years, I've argued with certain African-American people about their insistence upon using the so-called N-word which, to my ears, is, inalterably, a statement of self-loathing. They say I don't understand. They say the word no longer means what it has always meant. They say it's just a friendly fraternal greeting.
It will not be with guns. If ever tyranny overtakes this land of the sometimes free and home of the intermittently brave, it probably won't, contrary to the fever dreams of gun rights extremists, involve jack-booted government thugs rappelling down from black helicopters.
I cannot write this the way I want. Doing so would invade the privacy of too many people. But I can't be silent, either.