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If Ukrainians feel the time has come to surrender to Russia, they don’t need Donald Trump’s help. They can do that for themselves.
I always feel a little melancholy at this time of year. I could blame it on the colder weather, I suppose, but the truth is simpler: I find myself dreaming of a White Christmas…
Lately, America’s cultural heroes are bumping up the “greatest ever” language about itself. Apparently the whole world, not just America, is blessed by its national documents and decisions.
We’re in the Christmas season when Santa letters are being sent off to the North Pole. Here’s a sample: “Dear Santa. All I want is a fat bank account and a skinny body.
Twenty years of strict sanctions on Iran by both the United States and the United Nations did not bring down the regime of the ayatollahs.
There has been some public dialogue about the RCMP’s service in Saskatchewan recently. It’s something I need to address.
Did you hear the Saskatchewan Roughriders finally won their fifth Grey Cup? If not, congratulations on living under a rock—or maybe just successfully avoiding every news outlet since last Sunday.
With the changing of the seasons came the first snow of the winter in 1972. For us kids, the first snowfall always brought thoughts of the winter fun we looked forward to having as the season progressed.
There’s an old saying from the early days of newspapers: “Lies make it halfway around the world before the truth even gets out of bed.” Then came the internet, and lies proliferated…
The cartoon showed a woman saying to her husband, “You don’t look anything like the long-haired, skinny kid I married twenty-five years ago. I need a DNA sample to make sure it’s still you.”
I’ve spent thousands of hours sitting alongside video editors working on productions similar to the BBC’s Panorama documentary that has drawn a billion-dollar libel threat…
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about what to write—and I’ve noticed something: the more I write, the easier it seems to get.
It’s always irked me in literature and writing classes when a prof would insist that every story must have conflict. We were expected to spot the conflict before we even got into the craft of the writing.
Someone once said, when a man retires, his wife gets twice the husband but only half the income. Unfortunately, in Canada, it might be far less than half the income.
The ceasefire in Gaza, however shaky, is freeing up some bandwidth for the world’s media to focus on other ongoing massacres, and UN Secretary-General…
For 16 years, I’ve had the privilege of curating a special edition dedicated to Canadians who served our country—past and present—especially those who paid the ultimate price.
There are times when I would rather be miserable. It’s like sometimes misery just feels right. lol! Yup I just wrote that.
Even though we’ve all used them at one time or another, vending machines are the “Rodney Dangerfield” of the machine world — they get no respect.
I was on my way to lay some flowers on the graves of Val Marie’s ancestors last Sunday evening when out of the corner came a flashing light. And then, another.
There’s an old joke that claims it was disappointing to discover a universal remote control didn’t control the entire universe.
“This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper,” wrote T.S. Eliot in 1925, probably responding to the profoundly unsatisfactory aftermath of the First World War…
Where has October gone? Friday was Halloween, and I have to admit—I looked pretty scary in the mirror that morning.
