Analytical authors who lead America’s national introspection seem unanimous in believing that we have lost the will to vote. They cite declining voter numbers recorded by boards of elections across the country.
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Since college days, that big island just south of us has held a peculiar fascination for me.
“The Hunger Games,” an N.C.-shot movie, is a spectacular box office success.
We’ll call him Aubry -- though that was not his name -- in deference to his privacy-loving family, who’ve been my good friends since childhood.
Several days ago I spent an enjoyable evening at Davidson College listening to Professor Kathleen Hall Jamieson give the annual McGraw Lecture.
Real conservatives like commuter trains. Why? Because we ride them (we usually don’t ride buses).
In respect to Black History Month, this column is a reprise and an update of the letter to the editor of The Mooresville Tribune which began this series of columns back in 2004.
It’s going on ten years since Jim Bowman (an Ingersoll-Rand engineering wizard), former Mooresville Mayor Bill Thunberg and I first launched our quest to route the rails through our town toward a railway traction revolution.
In South Carolina, as they were in Iowa and New Hampshire, voters are about to be approached by pollsters who will use them to help feed and fund a system that turns the First Amendment against itself for profit, rendering the election process banal and redundant.
Kurt Vonnegut opens his darkling novel, Slaughterhouse Five, with the words, “I have come unstuck in time…” At this festive season of the year, I’ve been reflecting on some odd takes on time. If they seem bizarre and unstuck, you are perceptive.
Mooresville, N.C. and Pravia, Asturias (Spain) have in common that each has set about to pioneer hydrail (hydrogen fuel cell rail) passenger technology. Mooresville conceived the idea about ten years ago. In 2012, Pravia puts a real hydrogen train on the track and will start selling tickets to paying passengers.
Not by any stretch of the imagination could I be considered an expert on roads.
Moammar Gadhafi was pulled from a pipe as Saddam Hussein was pulled from a trap-door hole in the ground, each having gone home to play out his final act.
The Jesus Seminar rhetoric is nothing new.
This column is being written -- like everything I’ve written since 1984 -- on a Macintosh computer. More precisely, it is being written in collaboration with a Macintosh computer.
As of this writing Greece is wobbling like the number one domino in the long chain that is the world economy.
Seven years after I first broke the sensational 2004 story that “The Easter Bunny doesn’t pay taxes,” POTUS (the President of The United States) is apparently still not convinced that Paul Bunyan, Ebenezer Scrooge and Daddy Warbucks should be purged from the tax rolls just because they are fictional.
To make your way from the mainland of Scotland to the Isle of Skye in 1968 you had first to meander along a sparsely traveled coastal road to the village of Kyle of Lochalsh, where the ferry had its modest boarding ramp.
These columns have not been serialized in the past but the financial tumult last week may justify an exception.
Earlier this month, when I read the tragic account of three young people being swept to their deaths over Yosemite’s Vernal Falls, a vivid image from Boy Scout days jolted my memory. It’s summer. My troop is camped on the Davidson River near Brevard, N.C.
Previously I’ve written about the attractiveness of expanding the Federal “separation of powers” -- that balance and oversight of functions among the Executive, Judicial and Legislative branches that keeps any of the three from running too far amok.
America is divided into two camps: those who bemoan the excessive partisanship now slapping the tiller of the Ship of State back and forth between excesses of Left and Right and those who have not yet figured out that—while remarkably seaworthy—our national vessel can endure only so much rock and roll without foundering.
A lot of folks are said to “wear many hats” but over the past few years I’ve noticed that nobody is in charge of leading the world. There’s nothing ironic in saying this; it’s a literal fact.
"I wish the king would quit dithering and just go ahead and declare a no-sail zone around Boston Harbor and maybe one around Charleston, too," said Marie-René Boudreaux over the Paris newspaper her husband had deployed to shield himself from another round of their running argument.
A Tribune article last month about Sam Parks' hydrogen balloon flight reminded me that I have been wrong in thinking aviation will be one of the last applications for hydrogen in transportation. A couple of things have made me rethink that.
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