We are non-commercial, all volunteer and supported by our readers. Please help sustain the Dew by making a donation.
- Religious Sex-Toy Sites Vow to Save Marriages. (From Mark Johnson)
- Are Metro Jacksonville’s Days Numbered? (from Glenn Overman)
- Riding Israel: A Tragicomedy.
- When a Child Is Abused by a War Veteran.
- In Washington area, African American students suspended and expelled two to five times as often as whites.
- How to Make a Feature Film With Your Cell Phone.
- Nullification Makes a Comeback.
- What’s Happening In Virginia? Republicans Require Voters To Sign Loyalty Oath To Vote And So Much More.
- The 10 Dumbest, Most Offensive Political Ads in Recent Memory.
- Keynes Was Right.
Worthy of Comment
Also on the Dew
I live in Macon, Georgia, a small city (population: around 100,000, 99,957 of whom don’t know how to drive) some sixty miles from the traffic hell of Atlanta. Don’t get me wrong: I love Atlanta. It’s the home of the Braves (insert The Star-Spangled Banner pun here), the Falcons, the Varsity, the High Museum of Art, Coca-by-God-Cola, and many other wonderful things. Its traffic, however, I can live without. Atlanta is right up there with Los Angeles and Washington, D.C. for having the worst traffic in the country. There is an interchange in Atlanta formally named the Tom Moreland Interchange (Tom Morel Read on →
It was a relatively young (37 year old) senator from Augusta with modern ideas who brought Georgia out from under the influences of the Talmadge machine, when he became governor in 1963. Carl Sanders brought modern politics to the state, moved the state to new heights and set the tone for forwardness and moderation that, indeed, made Georgia the capitol of the New South. He ran against a key Talmadge protégé, and former governor, Marvin Griffin, a staunch segregationist. We remember it well. We were in our third week as publisher of the Wayne County Press in Jesup, when we endorsed h Read on →
I am plagued with strange compulsions. Some have been with me as far back as I can recall and I have added several through the years. Compulsions rarely make sense to others, but I often find that those folks who scoff at my compulsions usually have their own rituals that seem perfectly reasonable to them. I find it particularly galling when someone who jumps over sidewalk cracks or changes direction to avoid crossing with a black cat makes fun of my rituals. One compulsion is ordered reading. I do not like to stray from first to last order. I read the Read on →
It’s the broken slat on the chair that will keep our recent visit to Floyd focused in my mind. The soon-to-be ninety-nine year old husband of my late cousin Mildred lost his balance a few weeks back and misjudged the placement of the chair when he thought he was about to sit on it at the dining room table. He lives alone in his “cottage” at a retirement complex in southern Pennsylvania, so there was no one there to help him get up. Of course, he couldn’t get his cell phone to work so he lay there for a while before Read on →