Have you heard the awful news? I pray (and hope) you have not. I am referring, of course, to the plight of the Hawaiian yellow-faced bee. Such bees are dwindling. Endangered. Droning toward extinction. Soon, these winged creatures could expunge from the earth. It will be your fault, by the way, if the
Call me crazy, but I am beginning to suspect that thrusting a diehard Remainer into the job of pulling Great Britain out of the European Union was, on second thought, a bad move. Excuse me for being glacially slow to arrive at this moment of clarity. The revolution, though each pathetic flutter has
I’ve never frequented a vegan restaurant. Never would. So I can only imagine that they don’t serve ribeye steak. I suppose, if one is adventurous, you could take a seat. Tell the waiter you’d like a ribeye steak. Doubtless, the waiter would politely explain why that particular restaurant doesn’t serve meat. “But, I
Short of taking up black tar heroin, I’ve decided that the best way to cope with this farcical Brexit saga is to imbibe regular doses of sardonic humor. Perhaps that might douse it into a vaguely acceptable hum. A French lawmaker agrees with my prescription. "I've ended up calling my cat Brexit," a
Not long ago, to support Great Britain’s departure from the European Union remained the hoppy heady preserve of the corduroyed English fruitcake. Only the niche, and utterly mental clung to such opinions. Those trifling oddities, blimpish and better suited to reliving colonial exploits in faraway lands, were not of polite society. To be
A man many accuse of arrogant loftiness, of being completely severed from those he lords over, issued an open letter this week addressed to the “Citizens of Europe,” as if the current year happened to be 1452. Emmanuel Macron, default French president and paramour of the Financial Times, is currently battling months-long rolling
Anyone remotely familiar with British politics won’t be surprised to learn that Jeremy Corbyn, Labour Party leader, isn’t particularly well-furnished between his ears. A new book, Dangerous Hero, sadly aping something more fitting for a Steven Seagal title, confirms everything one already knew about dear Jeremy. It also confirms the sad state of
My old man tells me he left college in the 1970s and walked into a job for life. He tells me his first home cost twice the average salary. Then he tells me, without a soupçon of jest, “things were still pretty tough back then.” His brow—unapologetically smooth for its 65 years, cheeks
Thickly daubed upon her milk-white breasts was a poignant message. Across the sternum: “Brexit.” Above the right breast: “Leaves.” Above the left: “Britain.” Under both pendulous offerings: “Naked.” This wasn’t an exhibit at the Tate Modern. But live TV. The owner of the breasts, Dr. Victoria Bateman, an economics fellow at Cambridge University,
A favorite Saturday activity of mine involves chatting with a merry band of socialists who clot on a main street near me. Dreadlocked, dreary, and decked in alarming red, they implore every passersby somehow to stop U.S. “imperialism” in Venezuela. From outside Starbucks a mere 4,738 miles away. Most of us drenched in
