Yes, he’s a little rough around the edges here at home. His White House is behind on appointments and a little jumbled, with communications issues and leaks. At the same time, President Donald Trump is being persecuted and ridiculed, unquestionably, by the media and his enemies.
The demonization of President Donald Trump marches on, ever more creative and ever more vulgar. “He’s going to start World War III.” “He’s a malignant narcissist with psychotic components.” “He hates people who aren’t white Christians.” “He will take health care away from the poor.” “He will destroy the country.” “He’s in love, or lust, with his daughter.”
President Donald Trump certainly surprised the world last week by dropping missiles on a Syrian air base after Bashar al Assad’s chemical weapons attack on a defenseless village – and bombing the hospital where the victims were being treated.
The big event is over. There’s lots of talk about it, of course, with disagreement about the winner, usually divided along partisan lines.
I’m sure my life would be happier and more peaceful without this presidential election, but, I admit, I’m a political junkie right now and just can’t ignore it, or the behavior of our president.
The presidential campaign, no surprise here, is on fire. We’re waiting to see how the other shoe falls for Hillary Clinton, as more government-related, destroyed emails surface from the accounts of people who received them.
I awoke the morning after returning from Europe with a sense of dismay because the hotel where I stayed while in Prague was built on the site where Jews were gathered for transport to the camp called Theresinstadt, to await transfer to death camps.
So, politics can be fun after all. The Republican National Convention has been full of fun, along with some very interesting moments.
Born in Washington, D.C. a blonde white girl, I grew up there in the 1950s. My parents allowed no talk of racism in our home. In kindergarten, I experienced my first crush, on a black classmate, Ricky. No one told me that wasn’t okay. I was allowed to believe that Ricky was a person, just like me.
Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton shared an Air Force One flight to North Carolina last Tuesday to attend their first joint campaign rally. There was hugging and laughter, as well as a little dance from the shirt-sleeved president, who shared his famous campaign slogan “Fired up and ready to go!”
This year it’s Congress, and by that I mean both the House and the Senate. The presidential race is a mess, with the Republican candidate talking like a bully on the playground, and the Democrat under serious FBI investigation.
It looks like the presidential candidates are buckling down for the general election, and making some changes. Tuesday I heard Hillary Clinton making a measured, anti-Donald Trump speech, without a single shriek. I hear she’s hired a speech coach.
This week has marked the largest mass shooting in American history, the worst terrorist attack on U.S soil since the September 11, 2001, attack on the World Trade Center in New York.
What a crazy time in politics! Our presidential election, just so far, has been unbelievable, from the Republican presumptive nominee’s name calling to the federal investigation into the email use by the Democratic front runner.
Stop torturing me! I mean it. I can’t stand to listen, read or watch you anymore. All you’re looking for is sensation, when I’m looking for news.
It’s coming for me. Another big birthday. In fact, as a cruel friend once told me prior to another birthday, actuarially speaking, I’m already there. This one is the one when I officially become old. I’m pretty sure I’m not ready for that.
We, the people, don’t. Donald Trump’s campaign’s naiveté regarding the workings of the presidential election system, and his surprise that winning the popular vote doesn’t directly give him delegate votes, can serve as a reminder to all of us that our say in the presidential election is quite limited.
How lucky am I, to be married, through my child, into a family that, more than anything, knows how to celebrate. Every holiday, no matter how small, is cause for parties and gifts, which is exactly the way life should be.
It may be over. Yes, we’ll continue to have primaries, but it will be a surprise if Ted Cruz, John Kasich or Bernie Sanders wins their party’s presidential nomination.
It’s happening, and those of us not thrilled might as well get used to it. Donald Trump is winning. He may well win the Republican nomination and run against Hillary Clinton for president.
Within three hours of the announcement of the death of renowned Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, politicians, fight or flight hormones fully engaged, were ready, not to lament his death, or to honor him for his incredible career, but to fire another weapon in their ongoing political battle.
The Iowa caucuses are over, the results interesting. Texas Sen. Ted Cruz, who mounted an impeccable and perfectly Iowan campaign, won. He appeals to many evangelicals, and this is their heartland. Iowa was his turf, and he did everything right.
2016 has begun in a crazy and difficult way for me. Family members and friends have been sick and in need of help, and politics in my own community turned into a raging maelstrom.
For me, the onset of the Christmas season brings annoyance and anger. I’ll be so busy. All this gift giving and partying, public events and lights, and hours of tree decorating interfere with my plans, not to mention all the things I usually do, which I want to do more than ever now that there’s no time for them.
Watching television the other night I saw Joe the Plumber, fat body decked out in camouflage gear, reaching for his Prilosec. The ad implied that little pill will keep his stomach happy, and heartburn at bay, no matter what he eats.
What a tragedy, Paris under attack. More innocent people killed, and a clear display of the reach of ISIL.
A dreadful form of “news,” these twisted, context-free headlines and posts, are major obstacles to political dialogue. Can you believe it?
You’ve heard of the T shirt. The alternative is “Plays Well with Others.” I’m sorry to say, fellow conservatives, many of you are going to have to wear “Running with Scissors,” and, on your heads, a dunce cap.
After we finish spitting expletives through our teeth and banging our heads in frustration against the nearest wall, we try to figure out what’s the matter with Congress.