Maxed Out

It's an overlooked truism we live through history. Most of us have difficulty contemplating our day-to-day experiences being historical. But clearly, our current day-to-day experiences will be historical.

I don't enjoy writing about "serious" topics. That's why I'm a columnist, not a journalist. Serious topics make my head hurt. They require facts and getting to the bottom of facts just slows down the process.

"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely." I'm pretty sure that was the takeaway from George Orwell's Animal Farm .

I hit a time warp last Friday. The morning was progressing, as all mornings seem to in this current sheltering-in-place reality.

"Blow up your TV, Throw away your paper...." John Prine On Sept. 11, 2001, I woke up with a stiff back, mental dislocation and an overwhelming sense of wonder.

In keeping with the, how you say, je ne sais quoi , of the whole zietgiest of the moment, a unique moment if for no other reason I get to use both French and German in the same sentence, I have to pose a perennial question I've never before posed in

While I'm generally a let-bygones-be-bygones kind of guy, an always moving forward, never look back person, I do have mild twinges of PTSD.

Prior to widespread European exploration and well before the great land grab, it is estimated the size of the North American bison—buffalo—population may have been anywhere from 30 to 50 million animals.

What can be more soul-sapping —life-threatening conditions or income tax deadline time aside—than regularly sitting in gridlocked traffic? Vehicles crawling at a pace just slightly faster than a walk, taillights stretching for as far as y

In the pale predawn light, a time when most of us were trying to wring out the last moments of sleep, with the mountains to the south of me just beginning to take shape, blackened silhouettes against a sky fierce with wind and torn cloud, punctuated