What a bunch of BS.
BS is all over television, blogs, podcasts and newspapers these days.
It’s spouted by politicians and pitched by product spokesmen.
Modern life is manufacturing an unprecedented amount of it.
The rhythm-and-blues-tinged 1962 Ray Charles album “Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music.” John Travolta’s mechanical-bull-riding adventures in the 1980 film “Urban Cowboy.” The star-making 1990 “No Fences” album by Garth Brooks.
World War I interrupted the filming when the first Tarzan movie was made in the swamps near Morgan City in 1917, and that led to some international intrigue, including the arrest of one of its crew members as a notorious spy.
I grew up in Bethel Park, the middle-class suburb south of Pittsburgh where 20-year-old Thomas Matthew Crooks lived with his parents.
Crooks’ attempt to kill Donald Trump last weekend has filled my old neighborhood with shock and sadness.
Jimmy Mattern was never as well known as Charles Lindbergh, but he was at the height of his fame when hundreds of people from across south Louisiana turned out to hear him talk about exploits every bit as riveting as Lindbergh’s celebrated adventures.
Somewhere over the years, karma gave me the finger.
It all started with an incident in Mrs. Jones’s high school English class. Classmate Tracy Holder was unconsciously performing multiple animated hand gestures as he delivered an emphatic observation. Unnoticed, I smugly imitated his gesticulations.
It is an old childhood truism that “sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”
In the United States, where speech is protected with a constitutional and social ferocity like no other country in the world, this has always been the default position.
Louisiana legislators met last week to find legal solutions that will lower the cost of automobile bill insurance throughout the state. Hey, all you guy and gal lawmakers. There are no new laws that will make any difference.
When William S. Cary built an ice house next to Bayou Teche in Centerville in 1850, the (Franklin) Planters’ Banner proclaimed that “the project … has contributed more to the health, comfort and luxury of the population” than anything yet seen.