Barely a week has passed since the release of Michael Wolff’s book “Fire and Fury,” which depicts the president as unhinged and unstable and Bannon as hellbent on alienating anyone who ever liked him even a little. Now Bannon is finding himself to be many formers: former presidential whisperer to Donald Trump, former executive chairman of Breitbart News, former Sirius XM talk show host.
“North Korean Leader Kim Jong Un just stated that the ‘Nuclear Button is on his desk at all times.’ Will someone from his depleted and food starved regime please inform him that I too have a Nuclear Button, but it is a much bigger & more powerful one than his, and my Button works!”
At Cleveland’s airport, my husband had barely pulled to a stop in the arrivals lane before I jumped out and dashed through the sliding doors with three coats in my arms. There they were, our St. Croix crew, hovered together in a collective shiver as the doors repeatedly parted to usher in another gust of winter.
Just two years ago, 65-year-old Peggy Wallace Kennedy stood on the steps of the Alabama Capitol and renounced the acts of hate her father had committed there. This was no small moment. Kennedy’s father was the late Gov. George Wallace, who was an over-my-dead-body champion of segregation in the South.
I’m not one to wait with bated breath for Time magazine’s annual bequest. But this year was different, starting last month, after Donald Trump claimed he had declined the magazine’s request to photograph and interview him because editors would only say he “probably” would be this year’s selection.
“Texas and Florida are getting a lot of help, as they should. St. Croix — and Puerto Rico — still have no power and lack basic necessities. Like fresh water. Medical supplies. Cellphone reception. No air conditioning or even working fans in that tropical heat.” “Still,” she said. “We should be helping our own people first.”
“He picked her up around the corner from her house in Gadsen, drove her about 30 minutes to his home in the woods, told her how pretty she was and kissed her. On a second visit, she says, he took off her shirt and pants and removed his clothes.
Carman shared a Facebook meme of a photo depicting a woman serene in her domesticity. She is leaning over a pot on the stove, the lid in her right hand as she stirs with a spoon in her left, her nose poised to sniff what’s cookin’. The meme reads: “Will the woman’s protest be over in time for them to cook dinner?”
The story of his wrongful conviction is, in its particulars, an all-too-familiar one in America. He was accused by a white woman who had never seen a black man until she came to the Cleveland Clinic for cancer treatment. Michael had worked at the clinic for a short time, so police used his ID photo in lineups.
I hear these stories from friends and readers on a weekly basis. There’s the woman we thought we knew so well who celebrated, out loud and without apology, that her house had just sold to white people. The parent in the bleachers who yelled in the middle of a game that his son’s all-white team shouldn’t have to put up with a black coach ordering the kids around.
Let us start with the 25-year-old man who was not even mentioned. He is Army Sgt. La David Johnson, a member of the 3rd Special Forces Group (Airborne), based in Fort Bragg, North Carolina. He and three other men were killed in an ambush in Niger on Oct. 4. Their names are Staff Sgt. Bryan Black, Staff Sgt. Jeremiah Johnson and Staff Sgt. Dustin Wright.
We now know, through reporting by The New York Times and The New Yorker, that Harvey Weinstein — one of the most powerful men in Hollywood and a big-time Democratic donor — bullied, demeaned and sexually assaulted women for decades. He also reportedly threatened to destroy their lives if they told anyone.
We’re living and grieving this essential truth, no matter how many times we try to tell ourselves and anyone who will listen that with God, all things are possible. The older I get the more that sounds like blame, not credit. I’ve always thought of God as a partner who expects us to do our part, which involves a whole lot more than singing, chanting or fingering the rosary and then thanking him for listening.
In July, here in Ohio, President Donald Trump called immigrants “animals” who “slice” and “dice” teenage girls. This should surprise no one. On the day he announced his candidacy, he described Mexican immigrants as criminals and rapists. Last week, referring to black NFL players peacefully protesting racism, Trump said, “Wouldn’t you love to see one of these NFL owners, when somebody disrespects our flag, to say, ‘Get that son of a bitch off the field right now; he’s fired’?” He has called journalists enemies of American the people.
On his first full day as president, Donald Trump showed up at the CIA, described journalists as “among the most dishonest human beings on earth” and accused them of making up stuff about him. He blamed journalists for a perceived rift between him and the intelligence agencies — failing to mention that earlier that same month, he had compared the intelligence community to Nazis. Trump also said journalists had deliberately underreported the size of his inauguration crowd. Why, 1.5 million people showed up, he brayed.
This column isn’t about baseball. It’s about Cleveland Browns football players, the national anthem and a police union president who has a habit of making us sound like a town of time travelers who just arrived with a thud from somewhere in the 1950s.
Did you move around much as a child? Was one of your parents in the military, or did one work for a company that transferred employees with abandon? You were just getting used to your new school, your new friends, your new neighborhood and — boom — you had to leave. But if at least one of your parents was with you, you could tell yourself you would be OK. Or not. Some parents are scary.
In this perilous time for our country, I feel the need to keep reminding people that our words reveal us. When President Trump says “some very fine people” marched with the neo-Nazis and white supremacists who inflicted their hate on Charlottesville, Virginia, it’s clear which side he’s on. When Joe Arpaio says it’s “an honor” to be lumped with the KKK, there’s no doubt how he feels about the people this hate group targets.
This week the City Club has stirred up things again by inviting Corey Lewandowski, a former campaign manager for Donald Trump. He is not a president, but he influences our current one. He is also, in my view, a full-time troll.
Two hours later, I stood with a loved one in an emergency room in small-town Ohio and got an earful from the nurse taking care of him. The nurse, with more than 20 years in the profession, had spent the workday running nonstop and hadn’t heard the news. When I told her, she was relieved — and outraged.
“What I’m seeing this year are women who aren’t waiting to be asked,” Walsh said. “You know that line, ‘If we aren’t at the table, we’re on the menu’? Well, a lot of women feel they’re on the chopping block. What they care about is in jeopardy, and they’re not sitting on the sidelines anymore.”
This has been increasingly true since Jan. 8, 2011, when a gunman shot then-Rep. Gabby Giffords in the head and killed six others in a supermarket parking lot. All congressional spouses, as we’re often called, can tell you where they were when they first heard about that tragedy.
Instead of weaving yet another magical tale about how the brothers Trump are now rulers of the family empire and keeping it totally separate from Daddy’s day job, Eric instead vented his simmering rage against the Democrats. He did this in a rant to Fox News Channel’s Sean Hannity.
On Tuesday, Cleveland police announced that Timothy Loehmann, the officer who pulled the trigger within seconds of his arrival, has been fired. Not for killing Tamir. That wasn’t even mentioned. He was fired for lying on his job application with Cleveland police.
As protester Bryan Ricketts told CNN, after explaining how Pence’s homophobia has affected him as a gay man, many graduates at Notre Dame have been directly targeted by other policies — for example, those students and their families who are undocumented and who risked deportation to celebrate this milestone in their lives.