I’ve been a vocal opponent of the Participation Medal Society we are fostering in which every kid gets a trophy and winning or losing is irrelevant. But then you see something that lends credence to giving the old “Atta Boy!” to everyone after all.
Look, I’m not a psychologist and I have no concrete proof to offer up what I’m about to say, but as history has shown, I’m going to say it anyway.
I had an interesting conversation with an adamant believer in Bigfoot. When I asked how it was possible to have so many sightings of the hairy guy and yet no proof in the form of a body, droppings or living quarters, I got the standard response – It is a conspiracy.
I wrote a column several years ago about how you always see that one lonesome shoe on the side of the road. It is never in a pair and there is probably a great back story on how it got there.
As an opinion columnist, I’m usually pretty direct with my words. I have no problem calling it as I see it.
I don’t usually put too much stock in how weather affects attitudes, but I’m starting to change my mind.
As I was digging into a jar of pickled herring the other day, I looked at the aghast faces of my family. I wish this an isolated incident, but it seems to happen with regularity.
We like to focus on the milestone birthdays in our lives such as 16, 18, 21, 30, 40, the Big 5-0, etc.
We have a habit of making victims out of those who do despicable deeds. We often do this by claiming they have some sort of disease or syndrome to rationalize what has been done.
Even to this day, it seems that the topic of Jim Bakker really gets some people fired up in Fort Mill.
Google is a wonderful tool.
It’s that time of year that sports fans love and bosses hate – March Madness!
Sometimes I feel like I’m in no-man’s land when it comes to where I’m from.
This past summer vacation, we dined at a restaurant, Busch’s, on the Jersey Shore that has been serving hungry customers since 1882.