On “The President and the Press”

There is a tendency among us humans to think that whatever is happening at any given time is worse than that thing has ever been before.
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Requiem for a very good man

ROLLING FORK — He called me “Ghost,” after my ancestor he admired, and I called him “Carlos,” after an international assassin.
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What if lexophiles designed game shows?

ROLLING FORK—Those who know me well know also that I am an unabashed lexophile. And no, that is not a confession.
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How did we get here?

ROLLING FORK—Of all the famous characters produced by this country in its storied history, the one most needed in Washington right now might be Betsy Ross, because things are coming apart at the seams.
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Don’t insult our intelligence

Having practiced newspapering in the Mississippi Delta for 30 years, I figure I have been lied to more than almost anybody, with the possible exception of your average divorce court judge.

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Let’s quit talking about infrastructure

ROLLING FORK—I’ve decided that infrastructure is the new weather: everybody talks about it, but nobody does anything about it.
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Memorable night of tie in the typewriter

CLARKSDALE—You know you are getting old when you remember a really great story, only to realize that most of the folks it features are no longer still around to enjoy its retelling.
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Inactions also speak louder than words

This just in to the newsroom: Russia is not our friend.
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Absorb a touch of class by watching ‘My Fair Lady’

“This writing of plays is a great matter, forming as it does the minds and affections of men in such sort that whatsoever they see done in show on the stage, they will presently be doing in earnest in the world, which is but a larger stage.” —George Bernard Shaw

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What would I say to Dad?

ROLLING FORK—Well, it’s happened again. America’s latest Valentine’s Day massacre, this time the dead not rival mobsters but innocent children in a school, took place on the fifth anniversary of my father’s death, and as I watched, again, what has become the all too familiar news coverage of an all too familiar act of man’s inhumanity to man, a thought crossed my mind: What would I say to Dad were he still here?
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