This is a bizarre time in U.S. presidential politics. American voters are faced with an unsavory choice between two presidential candidates, neither of whom would be viable if the other party offered a credible alternative.
I feel badly for my white male compatriots who feel so hurt these days because they are not being paid attention to. They whine that politics and society have left them behind. They grump about their lost opportunities, the ones their fathers had in such abundance fifty years ago, mostly in manufacturing.
In 2009, while in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, a video crew and I interviewed vets who had just returned from a deployment to Iraq. We asked several of them and their families what America stood for and what values they felt they fought for.
Michael Connelly has his Harry Bosch; Jeffery Deaver his Lincoln Rhyme; James Patterson his Alex Cross and John Sandford
Donald Trump may not like how the system is working for him right now. And, to tell you the truth, it wouldn't be surprising to learn that many Americans agree with him.
Middle age refers more To landscape than to time: It's as if you'd reached The top of a hill And could see all the way To
Terence Clarke's story collection New York will be published later this year. Lately, though, the vitriol that fuels each
Donald Trump supporters explain the logic behind their admiration for the candidate in terms that fans of George Washington
The United States has always been religiously diverse, with the scoop of that diversity steadily expanding over the last 240 years. Yet with an electorate drawn from an increasing array of faith traditions, presidents over those decades have not reflected the general population.
Whether Palin coupled the two terms knowing she swam against the current of her own religious tradition is probably beside the point: she aims to appear part of particular religious milieu, but feels no apparent obligation to be well-informed about it.