It's February and so far you haven't kept a single New Year's resolution, have you? Not even the one about setting aside a special time to write in your journal.
H'rumphs
Whew! I was afraid it was hereditary, since my grandfather on my mothers side had a cousin who looked like a pool cue.
The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NAFTA) has finally revealed which of the three astronauts was responsible for most of the trouble on board the space station Mir.
Helllloooooooooo!" That’s what I shouted over the Grand Canyon when we first pulled up. You have to do that. It’s the law.
This issue of Sojourners is sponsored by the good folks at Procter & Gamble, makers of a respected line of consumer products, including their popular fat substitute, Olestra...
I confess that on Election Day this past November I didn't vote my conscience or my pocketbook.
American democracy is the envy of the world. And millions of us will wake up on election day and realize just how lucky we are before deciding not to vote.
Bunch of sourpusses.
But the rest of us—the patriotic citizens who value our freedoms and who, if called on to serve, would gladly make the ultimate sacrifice (specifically, giving up our favorite TV shows to watch U.S. soldiers fight on CNN)—we will vote. We'll carefully look at the issues, re-sponsibly select the people with the most integrity, and then faithfully go to the polls to cast our vote. Unfortu-
nately, nobody with integrity ever runs, so we'll just vote for somebody else.
But let's look on the bright side. The campaign is almost over, and so are the months of acrimony and negativism. But enough about Kathy Lee Gifford. We're here to talk about the race between Bill Clinton and Bob Dole.
For one thing, the media are pleased that the long-awaited GOP convention has finally taken place. After months of having to awkwardly refer to Bob Dole as "the presumptive Republican nominee," relieved journalists can finally call him simply "the guy who looks really uncomfortable talking to regular people."
After finally digging out from the 27 inches of snow that fell on the nation's capital-a city founded on a simple democratic principle: "What's a snowplow?"
Oops. Actually our 25th anniversary issue is coming up later this fall. I just forgot. I've been forgetting a lot lately since I'm getting older and...what was I saying?
By now you're probably pretty tired of reading about money and politics, and all the other serious stuff we've packed into this thought-provoking 100-page issue.
EDITORS' NOTE: The above headline may not necessarily relate to the following article.
Recently, some spots on my face were diagnosed not as the distinctive markings of a rare intellect-which I had assumed them to be-but as a precancerous skin malady.
Recently, some spots on my face were diagnosed not as the distinctive markings of a rare intellect-which I had assumed them to be-but as a precancerous skin malady.
A new day has dawned in our country. Unfortunately, that day is some time in the 1950s.
It started with the kind of silence that makes a parent sit bolt upright in his bed; an unnatural awakening, a feeling of something wrong.