Mariska Hargitay, better known as “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit” Detective Olivia Benson, is the human intersection of life and art.
Excuse me while I roll my eyes over the latest "mommy war."
To the world beyond the Beltway, it might not mean much that Bob Woodward of the famed Watergate duo went public with his recent White House run-in.
First they came for the drones. No, not the unmanned kind that kill strangers from a safe distance but the sort who sit in meeting rooms and repeat slogans until they absorb the proper way of thinking. The killers, figuratively speaking, are the diversity trainers who numb the human mind with slogans and rote instruction on emotional correctness.
When President Obama said in his State of the Union address that “This time is different,” referring to his push for tighter gun-control laws, he wasn’t just whistling Dixie.
We may never know exactly what happened in Benghazi the night Ambassador Christopher Stevens and three other Americans were killed, but it’s becoming increasingly clear that our response was short of optimum.
Imagine living under a military dictatorship where free speech is punishable by incarceration, torture or worse. Imagine sitting in an 8-by-8-foot cell alone for 11 years with nothing but a small water jug, a “sink” for waste, and a 15-minute daily break for a cold bath in a communal tub. rker.
More than perhaps anyone else in America, David Blankenhorn personifies the struggle so many have experienced over same-sex marriage.
It must be true what they say about women — that they are smarter, stronger, wiser and wilier than your average Joe.
My inner Pollyanna was basking in blissfulness, rolling in the hay of righteous rhetoric, backstroking through the sunny sibilance of aspiration.
To the world-weary, Lance Armstrong’s confession to Oprah was just one more in a series.
Unlike many who recently have joined the debate about gun rights, I have a long history with guns, which I proffer only in the interest of pre-empting the "elitist, liberal, swine, prostitute, blahblahblah" charge.
To be deemed a serious analyst at the moment seems to require a lot of hand-wringing and sneering over how awful Congress looked over the last few days as it rushed a fiscal cliff deal into law.
‘Tis the season when columnists write mea culpas, make predictions and list their resolutions.
In today’s world of social media, where everyone’s every little thing is on display, it is sometimes difficult to recall a time when exhibitionism wasn’t ubiquitous and was, in fact, not admired.
As politicians compete to prove who loves the middle class more, they’re missing the elephant and the donkey in the room.
A variety of insults have been deployed in opposition to Susan Rice's likely nomination for secretary of state: She is not qualified; she's too aggressive; she "misled" the public following the lethal attack on the American consulate in Libya.
Much speculation has followed the private luncheon between President Obama and Mitt Romney, about which little is known.
As events have unfolded in what shall ever be known as “The Petraeus Affair,” one cannot escape noticing that the women in this sordid saga have been handed the short end of the shtick, as though the men are mere victims of ambitious, hormonally driven vixens.
No matter which man you preferred, there is something unsatisfactory about the end of this race.
With just days to go, this is the un-callable election.
Oh, to be 12 again, the better to enjoy the presidential debates.
Contrary to conventional wisdom that debates are rarely, if ever, game-changers, the first presidential debate was a demolition derby.
I've written variations of this column a couple of times during the past 20 years, but certain occasions bear revisiting -- and surely the disappearance of a friend is one.
They came, they were adored, they conquered. I'm talking about the media -- and especially MSNBC, whose presence and influence in Charlotte were nearly as grand as the president's. They came, they were adored, they conquered.
I had hoped he would wait until I got here, but he was in a rush to go.
The period of the American Revolution coincided with publication of Edward Gibbon's "The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" (1776), and ever since we've been vigilant for signs that the U.S. was following in Rome's footsteps.
With Mitt Romney's announcement that Paul Ryan will be his running mate, we finally can extricate ourselves from one of the sillier debates and put to rest the narrative of the benighted "boring white guy (BWG)."
Not surprisingly, Barbara Bush said it most succinctly: “The first lady is going to be criticized no matter what she does.”
We're still a few weeks from summer's dog days and the conventions, and already feral rabidity has set in. Add to the long list of psycho-political syndromes the "Romney Derangement Syndrome."
South Carolina politics never fails to amuse -- and bemuse.
By now most sentient Americans have heard about the war on women. That is, the so-called Republican war on women, which has been framed as a battle waged by stodgy old white guys who want to deny women reproductive freedom.
Forty years ago, all of America learned the name of a particular condominium, hotel and office complex along the Potomac in the nation's capital.
All the world's a stage, all right, and never so much as when presidential politics are in play.
The past several days of Newark Mayor Cory Booker's life have been painfully amusing to watch.
Novelist John Grisham could hardly spin a more provocative fiction: The president and his surrogates mount an aggressive campaign to intimidate the chief justice of the United States, implying ruin and ridicule should he fail to vote in a pivotal case according to the ruling political party's wishes.
What a difference four years make.
This past week’s news cycle has produced two narratives: One, Barack Obama is an evolutionary,
News that Chinese dissident Chen Guangcheng and his family might be allowed to leave China for a university fellowship in the U.S. brought relief not only to Chen, but also to dissidents around the world.
Either President Obama has wings of Kevlar -- or he has the most incompetent scheduling staff in White House history.
I think it is fair to say that the shark has been permanently displaced by the dog.
For reasons that don't interest me much, "girl fights" have always had a particular tug on our imaginations.
All it takes is one little twit. Or a tweet, as the case may be -- not that the two are mutually exclusive.
There are so many appalling aspects to the Trayvon Martin case that it's hard to find a permanent home for outrage.
As the sun rises and dabs Caesars Palace with morning rouge, irony struts down the strip of casinos, shops and nightclubs.
What's in a name? Most of us, perhaps regrettably, do not get to select our own names and are saddled with our parents' projections of what we might be. It is entertaining to consider what name we might select for ourselves and what that name might suggest about us. Mitt Romney and Rick Santorum recently got this chance when they selected their Secret Service code names.
In the wake of "Slutgate," the operative argument seems to have devolved into a barnyard taunt: "My pig isn't as bad as your pig."
Who'd have thought that Rush Limbaugh would become the great uniter in this divisive political season?
Let me be blunt: If Republicans nominate Rick Santorum, they will lose.
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