Columnist.
Here I am in Naples, Florida, ending the year in the sun coterminous with a golf course.
"It's the economy, stupid," as we used to say back in the good old days — the good old days being the 1990s, when the president of the United States could have molested women in the White House during business hours with impunity.
As I ponder the lengthening list of alleged sexual offenders drawn from Hollywood, the arts, the media and politics, I am moved to wonder why the overwhelming majority of the accused are prominent luminaries of the left.
Last week, we discovered that former national security adviser Michael Flynn lied to the FBI about the import of what he told it regarding his contacts with former Russian Ambassador Sergey Kislyak.
I never expected to come to the defense of The New York Times, but here I am ready and willing to defend what I have hitherto called the Bad Times, as opposed to the Good Times, that being the Washington Times.
As Americans prepare for their Thanksgiving Day turkey, or perhaps protein bars, or artichoke hearts, or whatever the au courant are dining upon this year, I would like to propose a thought: You all have much to be grateful for.
It has long been my conviction that Democrats are the more adept pols, the most tireless pols, the most political pols. I have said that their political libido is that of a nymphomaniac.
After over two decades of writing about Bill and Hillary Clinton, it is pretty dispiriting to see how my friends the Democrats have ignored my findings about the rapacious couple.
"Sex is a beautiful thing." Remember that solemnity being intoned endlessly by the sex prophets of the '60s, '70s and '80s? Of course, the more recent prophets were preceded by the sexual psychopaths of the '20s and '30s. There is a long history to the absurdity of sexual utopia.
Regarding the imbroglio caused by the honorable Rep. Frederica S. Wilson, who is representing her south Florida constituency and, apparently, the entire African-American race in America and anyone else who hates President Donald Trump, my research has uncovered something interesting.
I have been fascinated by Harvey Weinstein's initial response to allegations that he sexually molested women. The Bathrobed Romeo's statement was otherworldly yet weirdly similar to Hillary Clinton's eventual response to the scandal. I say "eventual response" because it took her over a week to comment.
In the aftermath of the most deadly massacre in American history, a friend asked, "Why would God allow a man to wreak so much carnage?"
I have been trying to warn President Donald Trump, but to no avail. I have been trying to caution him about his tweets, but to little effect. Not that they are all that alarming to normal people.
On the occasion of my 50th anniversary of founding and editing The American Spectator, I feel moved to reflect on the parlous condition of the magazine business.
What did I tell you? Late in November of last year, after the presidential election that finally ended Bill and Hillary Clinton's 24-year pursuit of power in Washington, D.C., and diminishment of the Democratic Party, I wrote that they were finished.
Here we sit in the comfort of Washington, D.C., and read of the discomfort in Florida. The massive Hurricane Irma moved from the Caribbean up through south Florida, displacing as many as 5 million people.
Labor Day weekend passed with soggy weather in Washington. It was not as soggy as in other parts of the United States, but it kept me indoors most of the time, so I decided to give some thought to the one American president who I associate with Labor Day, Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
I wonder how my old pal Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan would view race relations today were he around.
Last week, CNN fired Jeff Lord, its famously pro-Trump contributor, for mocking an activist whom The Daily Caller has reported is a racist and an anti-Semite.
