Hitler died 64 years ago, but his name — or at least his moustache —
gets in the news so often you’d think the old monster was still kicking
Although he’d be 120, and so possibly incapable of the sort of evil that defined his life.
Probably you’ve noticed that Hitler has become a favorite, albeit a
posthumous, tool of propagandists who endeavor to make their political
foes look especially nasty, but who disdain devoting a lot of time to
assembling a logical case to bolster their allegations.
These lazy molders of public opinion seem to have decided that it’s a
silly exercise to exhaust themselves with hours of tedious research
when there’s a perfectly good four-letter word available.
That word being “Nazi.”
I can go along with PETA for some distance but I keep getting
distracted, and well short of applying for membership, by the group’s
Which, in defense of my ability to concentrate, is pretty easy to do when it comes to PETA.
I was pursued recently, and quite doggedly, by a heat wave. This
experience intrigued me, as my interest in meteorological matters is
boundless, but it was also a plain old nuisance.
The latter was due mainly to all the changing of shirts.
President Obama appeared on what seemed like half my channels the other evening, pitching his prescription for health care.
The president had plenty to say about the American people.
Politicians have in recent years taken up the American people in a big
way, and we are as a result getting quite a lot of press coverage.
Watched the latest episode of the Harry Potter series Sunday at the
Eltrym, and the film erased two and a half hours as effortlessly as did
the five movies that came before it.
Even without malted milk balls or red vines to sweeten the experience.
I expected as much.
Public goodbyes aren’t my thing, but in the newspaper business they sure can be efficiently handled.
In one column I can wish you all well and say nice things about the people I’ve worked alongside the past nine years.
Both are easy tasks, but neither is a job I tackle with relish. Except for the nice-making part.
First things first.
You people — you know who you are, because you’ve graced our Page 1
over the years — have been wonderful, a privilege to profile. Ned
Steele told me the moving story of his Marine Corps service during the
Battle of Guadalcanal — a story so painful he’d just started sharing it
with family members in August 2002, the 60th anniversary of that fierce
Saying goodbye has never been easy for me, but a particular melancholy
has come over me in recent weeks at the prospect of watching my
colleague Mike Ferguson leave the Baker City Herald building for the
last time as he prepares to move his family to Iowa.
I won’t say that I’ve enjoyed every day of working side by side with Mike. You see, I like a quiet work environment.
Mike, on the other hand, is a thespian and a storyteller. He even
fancies himself as something of a song-and-dance man. On more than one
occasion, upon arriving at the office with a less-than-enthusiastic
attitude, Mike’s voice has been the first thing I’ve heard as I walked
through the front door. Never mind that he’s still two rooms away at
My colleague Mike Ferguson will leave soon for Iowa, where he will not, so far as I know, work in the corn industry.
This bothers me (Mike’s leaving, not his inability to find corn-related
employment, even in Iowa) because his departure means I have to figure
out who’s going to report on Baker City Council meetings and do the
myriad other tasks which Mike has performed deftly and with particular
aplomb since he joined the Herald’s staff nine years ago.
Basically this looks to me like something of a hassle, and I dislike those.
But there’s another Mike Ferguson who’s leaving.
I call him my friend.
A lake ought to have a name, mainly so I can tell people where I was when I got pierced by a gaggle of mosquitoes.
Or swarm, or whatever you call a bunch of ill-tempered mosquitoes.
The notion that freedom is on the wane in America seems to have gained
widespread currency these past several years. This is an alarming
prospect at any time, but it seems to me particularly so as I ponder
the matter on this eve of America’s birthday.
On July 4, more than on any other day, we celebrate our shared belief
that freedom is not merely desirable but necessary, the granitic
foundation which underlies and supports the grand and noble
construction that is the United States.
The possibility that the bedrock beneath us might in fact be riddled
with cracks after 233 years, which is no great span in the life of a
nation, troubles me greatly.
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