Most presidents learn from criticism — not this one
By Martin Dyckman • Guest Columnist
The press must be the keyboard on which the government can play.
— Joseph Goebbels, Nazi propaganda minister, March 15, 1933
Donald Trump’s tantrums when he’s criticized or doesn’t get his way betray an emotional maturity that did not get beyond the “Terrible Twos.” Unfortunately, there is no one and no way to send the man-child in the White House to time out. To the contrary, grownups around him and in Congress are encouraging and enabling his behavior because it serves their own dark purposes.
Federal hiring freeze will have local impacts
A blanket freeze on federal hiring is having a local impact as the agencies tasked with managing Western North Carolina’s roughly 1.5 million acres of public land halt the hiring of seasonal employees responsible for keeping the area’s national parks and forests safe, clean and educational for the millions of visitors who seek them out each year.
Our allegiance is to the ideals, not to a president
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
—1 Corinthians 13:12 King James Version (KJV)
As I was looking through the photographs from around the country from the Women’s March last Saturday — including more than a few of my wife and daughter, who marched with a group of friends in Asheville — I was struck by the many expressions and images of sheer joy, when I guess I was expecting something more along the lines of anger and defiance. By all accounts, the turnout for the marches across the country far exceeded anyone’s most optimistic expectations, and the overall theme seemed to be the restoration of some lost hope for a lot of people who have not had much to celebrate in the past few months.
The art and activism of Panhandle Slim
Savannah, Georgia-based artist Scott “Panhandle Slim” Stanton was born in Maryland and raised in Pensacola, Florida, but he has been known to pop up in all quarters of these United States, including Asheville — owing to his family’s vacation cabin in Swannanoa.
WNC marches for women’s rights
“Care more, judge less,” “Love trumps hate” and “Rise up” were just a few of the battle cries heard in downtown Asheville last Saturday as an estimated 10,000 people marched to protect women’s rights.
The pink hats are coming
By rain-slicked granite sidewalks they came, early that morning.
In rubber boots, sneakers and sandals they came, not knowing exactly where bound but following — only following — in the footsteps of those who’d come earlier.
Congressman Meadows optimistic about Trump
Although Rep. Mark Meadows, R-Asheville, has been Western North Carolina’s Congressman for only two terms, constituents in his heavily Republican district have watched his stock skyrocket nationally. He’s become a conservative media darling while at the same time rising to become chairman of the House Freedom Caucus, a powerful and influential Tea Party-leaning group of Republican lawmakers advocating for smaller, more responsive, more fiscally responsible government.
North Carolina GOP celebrates inauguration
Inaugurations make for early mornings. Getting into or out of the tangle of security and Humvees blocking the streets of Washington, D.C., requires an early-to-bed, early-to-rise mentality that quickly acquaints one with the deep blue hues of dawn punctuated only by the phosphorescent orange glow of municipal street lighting.
Still can’t get my bearings in this alternative universe
It has been a few weeks now since the election, and I feel like someone who just came out of a coma and woke up in the hospital after suffering a traumatic injury. I am surrounded by dozens of cards and letters from friends assuring me that I am going to be OK and that “everything is going to be fine.”
A couple of friends are by my side, trying to explain what happened, but I gradually realize they are speaking another language and I have no idea what they are saying. I tell them that I do not feel fine, but they just smile and nod. My head hurts and my toes are burning like French fries in hot grease. On a little table next to my bed, there is a half-eaten container of blue Jello, and next to that, my heart, slimy and still beating, as if the doctor — perhaps a graduate of Trump University — forgot to put it back in before sewing me back up.
