It seems I can't escape discussion of Sarah Palin and her upcoming visit to CSU Stanislaus anywhere I go. As a student at California State University, Stanislaus (go Warriors!) I constantly overhear other students talking about Palin in class. Work is even worse because my coworkers and editor discuss Palin, the CSU Stanislaus Foundation and the Public Records Act ad nauseam.
Numerous polls have shown a decline in U.S. public concern about climate change over the last two years.
"Diplomacy has failed," Sen. Chuck Schumer, D-N.Y., told AIPAC, "Iran is on the verge of becoming nuclear and we cannot afford that."
Sometimes it is hard for adults to understand how difficult it is to be a teenager. I think part of the problem is the tendency for all people to view the past through rose-colored glasses. Just ask anyone over the age of 35 about their high school days, and you will probably hear a list of why schools were better back then. "Back in the day" - whichever decade a person went to school - always had better football and basketball teams, less drugs and violence and students all got As.
Every rainy day has its rainbow. On a sick day, we find some solace in watching bad daytime television. Even funerals provide chances for celebration amidst the sorrow, recalling long-forgotten tales and moments we spent with the dearly departed.
It has come to the attention of the Journal editorial department that there is some confusion about letters to the editor.
Would you be willing to bet everything you have on a single roll of the dice? Would you bet everything that everyone in California has? The state is about to roll the dice, on global warming regulation. The Governor could stop this gamble, but will he?
Sometimes it pays to spend 10 years in detention. Not that a person would ever want that to happen, but if it did - could you put the time to good use?
Sometimes those of us who are city-dwellers can take for granted the little conveniences that are inherent to living in town. Although I still remember the hardships of getting a pizza delivered to the extremely rural farmhouse I lived in as a teen - I had to walk a half mile to the end of the gravel road my house stood on to meet the delivery guy - it's been awhile since I've lived in the country.
Just when the reports of armed robbery and animal cruelty made me want to throw up my hands at my fellow man, my faith in humanity was restored. This transformation of belief occurred during a simple Sunday afternoon walk.
As we rapidly approach the June 8 Statewide Direct Primary Election, I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you of one simple fact: Here in California, it doesn't matter who you vote for.
Beelzebub is roaming the streets of Turlock.
I remember very clearly the first time I discovered that it's all too easy to skate around the rules to get what you want. My third grade teacher, Mrs. Mills, had assigned the class 20 math problems to do as homework.
I've heard it said that it takes a big man to admit that he's wrong.
While zoning out in front of the boob tube the other day, I heard a phrase uttered in a commercial that immediately woke me out of my vegetative state and started me thinking. I can't remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of "How will we remember the Great Recession?" I'm sure I have heard the economic troubles our country is facing today called the Great Recession in the past, but it never really registered until now.
I'm ashamed to call myself a Hoosier. Not since Indiana native and then Vice President of the United States of America Dan Quayle used fictional television character Murphy Brown as an example of the evils of single motherhood have I felt so ashamed of my Indiana roots.
Copperopolis residents are worried sick.
The 87th annual Academy Awards shouldn't be confused with entertainment.
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