August 14, 2013
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Comedy is a delicate business and should be left to the trained professionals.
We, the American People, should pat ourselves on the back for having survived a multitude of presidential battles this year.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year. And a large part of what makes it so goldarn fabulous is the festive array of idiosyncratic traditions each family imprints on their holiday gene map like a candy cane tattoo on the soft flesh behind your knee.
Be still your beating hearts, because the agonizing wait is over. Wake the kids. Rake the leaves. Fake speaking in tongues.
Prepare for earth-shattering news - immigration has become a key issue in the race for the Republican nomination.
It’s like a train wreck. Fascinating, repellent and loud, all at the same time. Talking about the American presidential sweepstakes. And, as ratings for the last few debates seem to indicate, very hard to look away.
Get this, and get it straight - Gordon Gekko was wrong. Greed is not good.
It’s a race to the outside. Avoid the middle like the plague.
As it appears we’re smack dab in the middle of the 2016 presidential campaign announcement season, this might be the perfect time to ask the question on every American’s lips: what kind of twisted psychopath chooses to do this?
For many, it was an apocryphal moment.
While the nation sleeps, a virulent epidemic snakes across our width and breadth like a twisting, toxic tornado.
Usually over the period of 12 months, you get an equal balance of good days and bad. On the playground of the cosmos, the scales tend to balance out.
Hey guys. Did this whole crazy holy daze madcap bedlam thing sneak up on you this year, making the world speed up like a maglev Bullet Train going downhill lit by a strobe, like it did us?
The autumn dark is lengthening, which means the English-speaking, Judeo-Christian holiday season is about to split open wider than a crocodile mouth at the bottom of a baby duckling water slide.
Here it comes. Creeping down dark alleys. Overturning garbage cans and spooking black cats.
Shake off the blues, put on your shoes and tell grandma the news: the next generation iPhones are here.
The meeting probably wasn’t as awkward as Cain attending Abel’s funeral.
More fun than 14 barrels of flunkies watching our elected officials exit Washington like scared rats streaming out of a sewer to escape Godzilla.
Plenty of people had good reason to be in a foul mood back in 2012.
Here’s hoping your Independence Day was beyond terrific.
A massive earthquake rolled through the Republican Establishment after Eric Cantor became the first sitting House Majority Leader to lose in a primary since, well…ever. Going back to 1899, the 19th Century. Back when Mugwumps bought buggy whips and the Emperor of Russian lunched with the Viceroy of India.
And now, an open letter to all you new grads.
In a move as surprising as limos at a state funeral, the GOP has misplaced their ticket for the clue train.
According to a new UN report, there’s good news and bad news about global warming.
For all those who have spent the last couple of months shoveling out a car, you should know we’re at the tail end of awards season.
It’s easy to imagine an arena full of Phish fans raising and waving their lighters to honor U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder for suggesting the feds might help states that legalize pot by allowing dispensaries to utilize banking services. Way to go, Super AG. That’s so incredibly righteous of you.
Be still, your beating hearts. As we exultantly find ourselves in this festive place once again. The most wonderful time of the year.
Think we can all agree these are pretty exciting times. Matter of fact, might be more exciting than we had any inkling. Recent revelations indicate we’ve all become inadvertent assets in governmental spy operations. You may have thought the NSA was everywhere, but you didn’t know the half of it. And no, there shouldn’t be a humming, red LED under your bed.
The perfect time to address disappointment is go to never and wait.
One thing you can say about Republicans. They are focused. Like lasers. Or a puppy with a chew toy.
It’s time to address the burning question on the lips of every American this summer: what will happen to Bryan Cranston’s pork pie hat after “Breaking Bad” ends its run?
Once upon a time, there was a little red hen who lived on a farm past the woods. She was friends with a bossy but politically connected pig, a groveling sheep who worked as a flunky for the village and a scared little mouse who specialized in running away and hiding.