This is the stretch of the political season when presidential nominees swoop into key states to appear at rallies with candidates running for other offices. The big question facing top Republicans on the ballot is: Do I really want to be seen in public with Donald Trump?
1. Whenever a new Zika case is confirmed in Florida, I will immediately rush to that county and stage a “round-table” discussion. This will calm fears in the local community, and lead tourists to believe that it’s still safe to visit.
When has there been such a burst of sickening headlines from one place? First, the killing of singer Christina Grimmie by an unhinged stalker with a handgun. Then the vicious slaughter at the Pulse nightclub by a homophobic wannabe jihadist with an AR-15. And, finally, the snatching of a toddler by an alligator roaming a Disney lake. All three stories are datelined Orlando, Fla., a stunningly freakish coincidence.
Last week, Florida Gov. Rick Scott went to California to steal some jobs. Scott urged California businesses to pack up and move to Florida because the minimum wage in Florida is only $8.05 an hour. That was actually the thrust of his selling point: Why are you paying your workers $10 an hour? Floridians will work dirt cheap!
Some supporters now say there was never any intent to actually police the genders of restroom users, that it would be too costly and impractical. Yet, without enforcement, the only point of such a law would be to gratuitously demean an alternative lifestyle. And who would ever do a thing like that?
Pinch yourself, hard. The unthinkable, the unimaginable, the impossible is happening. People are actually feeling empathy for Ted Cruz. What does this say about our beloved America? Into what kind of weird cosmic rat-hole have we let ourselves be dragged?
An American president is being welcomed, and his words are expected to be broadcast directly to the Cuban people. Such a thing was inconceivable not so long ago. No less historic is the Cuban regime allowing huge throngs to gather and rock out.
Every four years since Bush-Gore, Floridians silently offer a collective prayer that goes something like this: “Please, God, don’t let us be the ones to decide who wins the presidency.”
As a devastating deluge of polluted water darkens two coasts of Florida and threatens their tourist economies, Gov. Rick Scott is once again a flaky phantom.
Florida Atlantic University finally canned the despicable James F. Tracy. Despite what he might say, his travails have nothing to do with the First Amendment.
These days a Rubio sighting in the Capitol is rare. But he showed up — to vote against preventing people on the FBI’s terror watch list from buying guns.
Ben Carson’s ghostwriter asks Carson how his memory could have gotten so jumbled, but in retrospect he concedes he should have fact-checked it himself.
For God (perhaps) sayeth, “Go ye forth, and let all the people of the world know that their Heavenly Father is totally into guns. Seriously. I beseech all the lambs in my flock to lock and freakin’ load!”
Imagine if you were one of the wealthy donors who wrote a six- or even a seven-figure check to the Bush Super PAC early this year, thinking you were betting on a sure winner. Now you’re looking at the headlines and lunging for the bourbon.
Most embezzlers try to conceal their thefts, but not in Tallahassee, Florida. The looting of Florida’s Amendment One conservation funds took place in broad daylight.
A pet king cobra escaped in Orlando, and it wasn’t just a standard pet cobra that escaped. It was the largest, quickest, deadliest species of cobra in the animal kingdom. As if people needed another excuse not to come to Florida.
For those Americans who haven’t dived into the 7,121 pages of Hillary Clinton emails that were made public, here’s a summary: Boring.
What’s the point of saving a native creature from extinction if we can’t start shooting the darn things again? That’s the unspoken philosophy of the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, which after two decades of protecting the black bear has decided the time has come to open fire.
Sometimes there’s a fine line between mild-mannered and wimpy. No one’s expecting Jeb to morph into an electrifying personality at age 62 — but they do expect evidence of a pulse. So here’s plan to energize Jeb Bush’s presidential campaign.