And so another class of high school graduates left home this fall, or said goodbye to their friends who left.
Commentary by Susan Estrich
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I can't quite remember certain things that happened in college, particularly during my junior year "abroad" at Dartmouth. I'm sure some of that is age (in this case, a rare blessing), but the larger part is that I don't want to remember. And I can't imagine wanting anyone else to, either, at least not with any greater accuracy than their equally limited memory should allow.
Ten pounds separate me from most of the clothes in my closet. They are the cause of regular disaster in dressing rooms.
Really, what did you expect?
1994 was much worse. Much. So was 1980, but of course, that was also a presidential election. Within days, there were makeshift unemployment offices in all the congressional office buildings.
For half of the candidates on Tuesday's ballot, these are the days you remember.
Harry Reid should win.
"There is nothing more painful to me at this stage of my life than to walk down the street and hear footsteps and start thinking about robbery -- then look around and see somebody white and feel relieved."
California has never had a woman governor.
It was one of those moments. My son, a would-be engineer, saw it as a triumph of the very spirit of engineers: the can-do, we-can-solve-anything guts and genius that could figure out how to keep 33 men alive for two months while forging a plan to hoist them up from half a mile underground in a bullet-shaped device linked to a pulley.
There's an old joke in California that if you want attention, stage your event on the freeway.
If there were one contest Meg Whitman didn't need to win in her bid to become governor of California, it was the race to collect the most money from individuals and businesses that do business with the state of California.
The government sent my son a $2 bill.
Here we go again. Meg Whitman says she had no idea that she was employing an illegal immigrant for nine years and fired Nikki Diaz Santillan as soon as she found out.
This is supposed to be the year of the (Republican) woman. It is most certainly the year of millionaire business execs no one ever heard of a month or two ago giving Democratic fixtures (e.g., Russ Feingold in Wisconsin and Andrew Cuomo in New York) a run for their money. It is the year of newcomers and fresh faces, without regard to such pesky matters as qualifications (e.g., Sharron Angle in Nevada and Christine O'Donnell in Delaware).
The Republican nominee for governor of New York doesn't spend a lot of time talking about himself, which is both good and bad.
Good news. The folks in charge of such things announced this week that the recession is over.
Schadenfreude means taking pleasure in the failure of others, which is the Hollywood vocation and, lately, that of Democrats, as well.
When I was in seventh grade, I was the only girl on the junior high math team. I wasn't the best, and I wasn't the worst.
Here's a really bad idea: Burn the Koran to send a message.