The outrage is unrelenting and understandable — but at this point unnecessary. In October 2006, a 13-year-old St. Louis area girl hanged herself in her bedroom closet after her heart was broken by an online crush.
The promise of “change” as an emerging catchphrase for the presidential campaign poses an interesting dilemma for Hillary Clinton.
If addressing stereotypes makes you skittish, the story of Zen may not be for you. Zen is the creation of two businessmen — one black, one white — who faced some harsh attitudes about black people to produce what most said would never work in Kansas City — an upscale hip-hop club.
Martyrdom has a way of conferring on the dead the crowning glory they never could achieve in life. This is tragically the case in the assassination of Benazir Bhutto.
Before Kansas City had Secret Santa, it had Virginia Putsch. Granted, hers was not the sort of mystery gift-giving of a sly elf seeking needy strangers. The employees of the Putschs’ restaurants knew that each Christmas their families would be treated to a special day. In fact, they counted on it.
Apparently, presidential campaigning is a little like drinking alcohol. Too much, too quickly, brings out the worst in people.
We can’t feign shock anymore. But I doubt the deadly shootings at the Westroads in Omaha, Neb., will move us to do something about mass, unwarranted violence. At best, it has sent us all the message that, oh, it can happen at the mall, too.
Anyone who has ever uttered an apology knows the power of these three words: “I am sorry.”
Step aside soccer moms, NASCAR dads. A new sought-after voting bloc is emerging in American politics: People like me — unmarried women voters.
The vigil for a new day in Cuba has for some time been focused in the wrong direction. All eyes are on Fidel Castro, as the world waits for him to die.
Olger Opitz was a young man the Sunday he lost his wallet stuffed with family photos, his Selective Service card, a driver’s license, insurance cards and about $20.
After decades of arguing about civil rights and desegregation and affirmative action and multiculturalism, are Americans getting any better at discussing race? Maybe, maybe not. I tend to think we are. But lately the ante has been upped, and discussions about race increasingly intersect with a subject Americans really have no clue how to talk about: class.
The e-mail suggestion of a good deed for a wounded soldier was appealing in its simplicity. A little too easy. It was a hoax.
Wickedly brilliant. More than a dozen years ago, as a young reporter, that was my conclusion after spending two days with the Rev. Fred Phelps Sr., the fanatical Kansas preacher who terrorizes grieving families by picketing the funerals of their loved ones.
The Southern California wildfires were just too alluring for the wackos bent on demonizing Latinos. All the elements for conspiracy were there — innocent victims, massive destruction and no clear culprit. Perfect.
The panic strikes during the most mundane parts of my daily routine. Dial mother’s house, the same number she has had for more than 40 years. And the phone rings ... and rings and rings. Has she fallen?
The New York-based CNN producer wanted to know, "What about the situation in Kansas City, with the mayor, the Minutemen and Latino community, speaks to something more universal for the nation?"
The New York-based CNN producer wanted to know, “What about the situation in Kansas City, with the mayor, the Minutemen and Latino community, speaks to something more universal for the nation?”
Forgive me if I am hesitant to join the pummeling of former Olympian Marion Jones. I believe she still has something to offer as a female athlete.
After Sept. 11, 2001, future Minuteman leader Chris Simcox created an answering machine message proclaiming he would only speak to people who recited the preamble to the U.S. Constitution.
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