Author: David

A man goes to the doctor’s office. He points to his shoulder, says, “Ouch! That hurts!” The man touches his knee, says, “Ow! That hurts too!” The man touches his forehead, says, “Wow, that hurts a lot!” The doctor says, “Your finger is broken.” I have been pontificating in these columns

If snowplow parenting only increased the likelihood that your kid would morph into a sniveling, entitled, feckless, unhappy monster living in your basement borrowing your credit card, I wouldn’t spill any more electrons trying to help you raise a responsible kid who understands that his actions have consequences for him.

I adore my wife. Let’s be clear up front. This is not one of those “my wife doesn’t understand me” clichés more appropriate to a lower class of fiction. My blog is not a dating website. My wife is awesome. All that said, Patti and I did stay at an

Which specific offenses were committed and by whom is lost—mercifully—in the mists of time. Doubtless some egregious transgression involving a lunch check or a pitiless misunderstanding over a meeting time were involved. Suffice it to say that Mrs. Amber Bamberger hasn’t seen or spoken to her daughter, Bambi Bamberger, in

Scholars disagree as to whether or not Polonius is a pretentious boor. His advice to his son, Laertes, strikes me as fairly cogent, I have to say. “Give all men they ear, few thy voice.” Makes sense. What is not in dispute is that Laertes has heard it all before.

I thought I had written enough about the Varsity Blues scandal. I expressed outrage here and sarcasm here. The whole affair sickened me and I was sick of writing about it. Douglas Hodge, the CEO of PIMCO plead guilty. Felicity Huffman is spending two weeks in prison. Agustin Huneeus got