On Thursday June 23, the Leave side for Brexit prevailed: 52 per cent to 48 per cent. It seemed for a time as though the world had been turned upside down. I’ve danced about the edge of many a conversation claiming how it’s a victory for racism, Britain made the wrong choice, and voters were so horribly out-of-the-loop and misinformed. My own contributions have been virtually nonexistent.
Excuse me for a moment while I quarter a flogged horse. …May played host to the Parliamentary incident of 2016 when Justin Trudeau tried unsuccessfully to leave an elbow-sized crater in the chest of NDP MP Ruth Ellen Brosseau.
I am a strong advocate for straight shooting: say what you mean and mean what you say. No games. No finagling. And definitely don’t try to appear magnanimous when your ulterior motives are entirely selfish.
Ah, the 21st century: a time of progression, improvement, and constructive discussion. Not to say that there aren’t still problems.
The NFL Combine each year is a meat market. Players are poked, prodded, and interrogated as teams try to figure out who is worth spending a valuable draft pick on.
Mark Zuckerberg, CEO of Facebook, recently polluted social media feeds with a photo of himself on a run through Tiananmen Square as part of a fitness challenge “A Year of Running.”
I have always been a fan of St. Patrick’s Day. My grandmother was Irish, so that lifeline has been clung to throughout my existence. Robbie Keane jerseys, Bailey’s whenever possible, a relatively fake taste for the ever-poorly travelling Guinness whenever the folks were looking the other way, and a miserable affected accent were staples of my childhood.
We’re in the midst of Lent right now—the Christian time of fasting for 40 days and 40 nights to represent Christ’s time in the desert. To be perfectly frank, I had not even realized Lent had started until I looked it up today.