The American Press Is, And Always Has

Youth As Glimpsed By Its Elders Is A Story That Comes From Afar, Showing Itself As Either Lovely To Look At Or A Torment To Endure.

Further Strengthenings Of The Self-centered Instinct For Survival Recruit Even Greater Numbers Of People Into Some Sort Of Ring Of Fellowship (church Or Gender, Red State Or Blue) By Populating The Terra Incognita Outside The Ring With Enough Barbarians To Verify The Existence Of A Civilization Within--to Define The Preferred Stock By What, As All Good People Agree, It Decidedly Is Not.

Since The Eighteenth Century The Immense Expansion Of The Worlds Wealth Has Come About As A Result Of A Correspondingly Immense Expansion Of Credit, Which In Turn Has Demanded Increasingly Stupendous Suspensions Of Disbelief.

What Kind Of People Do We Wish To Become, And How Do We Know An American When We See One? Is It Possible To Pursue A Common Purpose Without A Common History Or A Standard Text?

Among All The Emotions, The Rich Have The Least Talent For Love. It Is Possible To Love One's Dog, Dress Or Duck-shooting Hat, But A Human Being Presents A More Difficult Problem. The Rich Might Wish To Experience Feelings Of Affection, But It Is Almost Impossible To Chip Away The Enamel Of Their Narcissism. They Take Up All The Space In All The Mirrors In The House. Their Children, Who Represent The Most Present And Therefore The Most Annoying Claim On Their Attention, Usually Receive The Brunt Of Their Irritation.