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Unlike so many people with Twitter and Facebook accounts these days, I am not a constitutional scholar. I did go to law school, passed the Bar on my first try and have been practicing law since 1987.
Recently, a friend showed me a sobering graphic depicting the gender disparity in suicide rates between men and women. While females tend to attempt suicide more often than men (and experience suicidal thoughts more frequently), males are more “successful” in completing the act.
Years ago, when I was just beginning to practice immigration law, I remember hearing about two horrific genocides.
I’m going to out myself here: I am a Bad Masker.
I regularly deal with women who’ve been sexually abused in other countries. Many of them do not report the assaults to law enforcement, because in El Salvador, Guatemala and Honduras, the police are unlikely to take rape and harassment seriously.
Lately, I’ve started seeing all the usual Christmas decorations, books, gift suggestions, articles, foods and complaints about all the usual Christmas decorations, books, gift suggestions, articles, and foods.
Ahmaud Arbery is not here, but he heard the verdicts. He knows, in that place where his restless soul resides, that his death has been avenged.
If Kyle Rittenhouse is convicted of anything other than, at most, a misdemeanor offense, I will write glowing articles about Nancy Pelosi, make Christine Blasey Ford my social media profile photo, and contribute to NARAL. ...
I recently filling in hosting a local talk show, which gave me the opportunity to interview Lt. Colonel Jonathan P. Meyers, a retired Marine who’d recently written a memoir about his almost three decades in service: “American to the Corps.”
I’ve been practicing immigration law for over 25 years, and I speak four languages fluently. I’ve traveled widely outside of the United States, and lived abroad for large stretches in the 1980s and ‘90s.
Mark Ruffalo came out on Twitter the other day and angered a lot of people, but not the people he usually tends to anger.
The first person I thought when I heard that Prince Philip had died was Elizabeth, a Queen in the greater world but only and always a wife to the man who’d been by her side for longer than I’ve been alive.
My father had terminal lung cancer. He fought like a Spartan at Thermopylae, his body riddled with chemo and radiation, his stomach filled with macrobiotic foods lovingly prepared by my mother, his mind steeped in the defiance of death as exhibited by Dylan Thomas who wrote the words that were buried with him, in his coffin:
The reason for schools being shut down across the country is the reason every local, regional and national official has used over the past eight or so months: COVID, corona, Wuhan, call it whatever you want.