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With time running short, the nation’s health care rolls still aren’t filling up fast enough.
Every so often some researcher whips out his calculator and estimates how much it takes to raise a child today. I suspect that this exercise is some sort of subtle pressure from the government to cut down on overpopulation, because the Department of Agriculture says it costs a libido-crushing $241,080 to raise each of our Special Snowflakes to age 18.
In a scary new venture, Rush Limbaugh has announced publication of a children’s history book, “Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims,” intended to correct what he and his fellow troglodytes consider historical distortions in currently used school books. Having bamboozled millions of angry, racist old white men, Limbaugh is expanding his propaganda victims. According to Limbaugh, children shouldn’t be taught about our broken Indian treaties; our former dictator-propping foreign policy; and similarly unpleasant historical facts.
This Tale of the Temperature begins, like so many do, with Christmas. One joyous holiday evening last year I slogged home from work, having been released early from my toils, Cratchit-style, by my benevolent employer, and schlepped my briefcase down the hall.
Classical landscapes interrupted by flying lemons. Silk camisoles carved from wood. Justin Bieber’s famous face painted into Renaissance-era art portraits. All this and more will be on display this fall at the Mesa Contemporary Arts Museum.
In the latest entry of his ongoing vault-diving releases, Bob Dylan revisits one of his least-heralded albums. “Self Portrait,” released in 1970, is remembered less today for its music than the classic first line of a Rolling Stone magazine review by Greil Marcus that greeted it: “What is this (expletive)?”
Writing for the Ahwatukee Foothills News is not without its perks. For one thing, I get to use the phrase “my editor” in a casual, off-hand way as if my next stop is the Algonquin Round Table. And then there was the time I got recognized at the mall; Dad, Interrupted was surprised I could fit my head in the car after that one.
Even those of us who have yet to date and break up with John Mayer may find “Paradise Valley” unlikable. Kids are apt to spend some time with the humble tunes before moving on to more fulfilling relationships.
It’s like Christmas in July: you’re wondering what the next column will be about, and somewhere off in the darkness Carlos Danger turns on his cell phone.
It was a cloudy Monday morning as parents and students walked the grounds of Kyrene de la Esperanza Elementary School for the first day of school, and the start of a new fall term.
The women's restroom line at the Mus�e du Louvre extends far into the lobby.
Editor’s note: This is part four of a continuing summer series on the proposed South Mountain Loop 202 Freeway.
Abortion foes are making a late-session push to allow health inspectors to inspect clinics without a warrant.
Are you interested in cutting costs and saving money?
Having observed the failure of our education system by dumbing-down our children for the past 50 years, concern has to be expressed about the “new” Common Core State Standards Initiative (CCSSI).
When is the best time to get something done? There are a lot of different ways that people ask this question, but my initial reaction is: Whenever you have time to do it.
Don't be surprised if you find yourself sitting near a horse the next time you dine out.
While the cloud of dust eventually settled the smile was almost always present.
Everyone has that one person they just can’t stand. Not for any particular reason other than “you just don’t.” That’s OK, we are human after all.
The pilot had just given the all-clear for electronic devices, which left me free to rummage under the seat in front of me for my laptop. I was taking a moment to consider the barbarism that allows airline passengers to push their seats back into my head when the kindly older woman next to me inquired if I was on a business trip. I think the PowerPoint deck and the calculator I pulled out of my briefcase tipped her off.
Forget the ferrets. Cancel the cats. And don't even discuss the ducks.
The best moment of my life, so far, happened more than 15 years ago at a hospital in Mesa. Like many “best” moments in our lives, it came after some of the worst.
Friends: Since there’s next-to-no chance I’ll send out Christmas cards this year, this will have to do. If you don’t see this before the 25th all the better, because I usually can’t muster the energy to find a box of Christmas cards, print address labels, write a letter that doesn’t sound bragging, smarmy, or maudlin, and then find stamps before New Year’s anyway.
Loss has never come easy for me; be it in cards, a high school sporting event or on a personal level.