Jason Michael Morgan
In August of 1955, William Faulkner traveled to Japan. Based in the out-of-the-way mountain province of Nagano, Faulkner lectured and temple-toured for two weeks, doing the bidding of the U.S. State Department, which had sponsored his trip.
Today, too many are willing to hurl abuse from the shelter of anonymity, the battlefields of our virtual worlds. We are unproved, free of scars, and yet happy to make sure the world gets a full clip of our opinion.
At the Pulse nightclub on June 16, Omar Seddique Mateen, a Muslim on his own personal jihad, opened fire on the crowd of more than 300. No one shot back. Some tried to hide in the bathrooms.
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The self-righteousness and smugness of Ted Cruz in refusing to endorse Donald Trump, then walking off stage in Cleveland, smirking amidst the boos, takes the mind back in time.
There are some simple rules governing modern American political conventions. If you speak at the convention, you endorse the nominee. If you can't endorse the nominee, you don't go.
While what’s said before the TV cameras at a political convention is important, just as important is what goes on behind the scenes in the meeting rooms. That’s where policymakers of all stripes meet and hammer out a political party’s future.
Last Saturday, during lunch with Scott Richert and Aaron Wolf at Rockford’s Prairie Street Brewhouse, I expressed suspicion that the coup in Turkey—just over 24 hours old at that time, and in the final stages of collapse—was Erdogan’s Reichstag fire.