They were texting their parents as they were being killed.
The headlines on the Drudge Report make it sound worse than it is: "Blacks, liberals flee in droves." And underneath: "Sanders (that's Bernie Sanders, the Independent from Vermont): Obama should face primary challenger." And above: "Obama's Base Crumbles."
For weeks, the signs were flashing on every freeway in Los Angeles: 405 closed between 10 and 110/July 16-17. EXPECT BIG DELAYS.
My friend Francie's mother used to be known by all as "the Nation." It was a loving nickname based on her tendency to make pronouncements to one and all about what the nation thought of a particular topic. She would laugh.
Casey Anthony killed her daughter. She may not have meant to, and she may have been much more interested in her own social life than in her daughter's well-being, but I have absolutely no doubt that she was responsible for her daughter's death.
Just days after New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo signed into law legislation legalizing same-sex marriage, Rhode Island Gov. Lincoln Chafee and the coalition supporting similar legislation in that state effectively conceded defeat.
For a Democrat, it's too good to be true. Michele Bachmann and Mitt Romney running neck and neck in Iowa. Romney having to worry about the one in five who won't vote for a Mormon, and Bachmann hiring a cadre of top Republican consultants, starting with Ed Rollins and Ed Goeas.
There he goes again, fulfilling another promise. Imagine that. When he announced the surge in Afghanistan, he said it was temporary. Democrats, especially liberals, screamed bloody murder. How dare he do what he said he would do during the campaign: focus on Afghanistan, on the threat posed by al-Qaida, on capturing Osama bin Laden, dead or alive?
Back in 1980, when I was working for Sen. Ted Kennedy, the Cardinal of Boston instructed priests to take to their pulpits to denounce the candidacy of Democratic Congressman Barney Frank because of his support for abortion rights. "Get me my brother's speech," the senator said to me.
It was about six years ago that my old friend Anne and I were sitting around daydreaming, and I started talking about my "perfect" house: three bedrooms (I have two children), convenient to my son's school, a yard for the dogs and, oh, yes, a peek at the ocean. Then I mentioned my spending limit, and we both burst out laughing. Not possible. When we stopped laughing, Anne announced that her mother would find it for me.