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.
SARAH PALIN has made me sad. That's something I never thought would happen, particularly since I made a small cottage industry of defending her against pretentious liberals, particularly pretentious liberal women who know how to spell "fetus" and "choice" and a lot of words that only have four letters in them.
WHEN THE MASSACRE at Sandy Hook occurred three years ago, I went through my own personal sea change. I woke up on the morning of Dec. 14, 2012, having no specific opinion about guns and the Second Amendment and background checks and mental health and all of the layers of a problem that seemed so important to other people.
I AM VERY RARELY recognized in public, and when it happens, I'm usually mistaken for someone else. Sarah Palin tops the list; since 2008 I've been approached with "Has anyone ever told you how much you look like" so many times that now I just smile and say "you betcha, everyone except Todd."
THIS WEEK, I spent one unseasonably warm evening at St. Katharine of Siena Church in Wayne, listening to children, kindergarten through fourth-graders, sing Christmas songs while struggling to act as grown up as they'd been dressed up to be (never saw so many miniature bow ties in my life, and I used to teach at a boys' school).
I DIDN'T KILL three people at Planned Parenthood. I didn't wake up one morning, forget to take my meds, get my fill at some of my favorite pornographic websites, smoke a few joints, load up my (probably registered) semi-automatic, pull out my map, get in my car, drive toward the clinic in Colorado Springs and take aim.
GROWING UP in a world where irony and humor are banned by governmental fiat is a dangerous thing. It turns healthy human beings into all-purpose victims. I've written about this before when the kids at Yale and Mizzou got their pre-Paris attack 15 minutes of fame which, by the way, they were annoyed at losing when the grown-ups took control of the news cycle.
See Christine Flowers on Channel 6's "Inside Story" Sunday at 11:30 a.m.