I ALWAYS considered myself to be Trans Gender. No, it has nothing to do with bathrooms. My biological apparatus matches both my birth certificate and sense of reality. What I mean is that I've always looked at things from an essentially gender-neutral per
LIKE MOST Catholic-schooled girls who grew up in the 1970s, I learned about sex (including where it was done, how it was done, to whom it was done and if, in fact, it was done) by reading several dog-eared Jacqueline Susann novels. My favorite was "V
I ONCE STARTED touring the Pennsylvania wearing a crown, going from diner to gas station to 4-H festival to church breakfast, announcing myself as Miss Pennsylvania and perfecting my half-smile and perky wave. I did this because, even though I never participated in the pageant and, in fact, never had a date in high school, I wanted some badly needed momentum in my love life. I figured that if I acted as if I'd won a beauty contest, I'd eventually meet a nice doctor. Or something.
I REGISTERED as a Democrat in 1980, shortly after I turned 18. I was fairly apolitical, and picked that party because I (wrongly) assumed that most of my relatives were registered with the party of JFK. We were Catholics, after all, mostly working class a
YOU KNOW what I really resent? I resent it when someone tells me I should vote for, or support, or give a pass to, someone because it will be a "historic moment."
THERE IS NO WAY to avoid sounding like a Donald Trump supporter with this column. I've already been accused of going over to the dark side by defending The Donald against accusations that he wanted to imprison women who had abortions, and that he cheered
IT'S NO SECRET I detest Donald Trump. I don't particularly hate the man, because it takes too much energy and effort to become enraged at people I don't know personally and will likely never meet, when more than enough humans are in my immediate orbit who fit the bill. He isn't evil, he isn't Hitler, he isn't the Angel of Death.
SOMETIMES, God speaks softly. He shows you the magnificence of his glory in the mewling of a newborn child, eyes still closed against the world but lungs fully operational. Other times, his anger is announced with obvious thunder, like when he sends a pla
IT'S BEEN a long time since I've written about the 2006 version of the Scottsboro Nine. About a decade ago, I wrote about them every few months, both during and after the investigation. The case, like Nosferatu, refused to die.
LIFE IS UNPREDICTABLE. Just ask Hillary Clinton. I mean, you wake up Tuesday morning planning to give a big electoral hug to Michigan, and you go to bed not caring whether arsenic starts flowing through the tap water in Flint. You just never know how the day is going to pan out, so to speak.
DESPITE a few recent polls that suggest most Americans don't really care about the Oscars, I think we secretly do. It may not seem hip to have an opinion about who gets to "thank the Academy"and a hundred thousand minor acquaintances before the music drowns them out, but I am one of the Americans who does care. This is not surprising, because I have never aspired to hipness. That possibility was squelched in the fourth grade with my coke bottle glasses and pocket-sized calorie counter.
FAR BE IT from me to defend women who think Bernie Sanders is exactly the type of person we need to change the course of this country (because I think he has the same sense of direction the Titanic's navigator had.) However, while I certainly don't feel t
See Christine Flowers on Channel 6's "Inside Story" Sunday at 11:30 a.m.