“A girl must eat, particularly a ballet girl,” Alicia Markova told the London Daily Herald in 1954. “She burns up tremendous energy.” Unfortunately, the opposite message was recently conveyed to students at the English National Ballet School, a company originally co-founded by Markova (as The Festival Ballet) in 1950. Read more…
Eight months after whistle-blower Edward Snowden set off a huge uproar by shedding light on the National Security Agency’s unscrupulous surveillance practices, we are still learning about the vast extent of the snooping. Such revelations are vital to inform the public and enable a democratic process that could hold the government accountable. But they are accompanied by a very real danger: We may come to see privacy as a thing of the past.
Even if you accept that corporations are people, it’s quite a leap to suppose that they can find religion. Yet that’s essentially the argument in the case of Hobby Lobby, a corporation that is challenging the contraception mandate of the Affordable Care Act, better known as Obamacare. Hobby Lobby’s case goes to the Supreme Court in March, and the justices will decide whether the corporation, which is owned by Christian shareholders who object to some forms of birth control, can omit contraception coverage from its employee health insurance.
I grew up planning for my future, wondering which college I would attend, what to study, and later on, where to work, which articles to write, what my next book might be, how to pay a mortgage, and which mountaineering trip I might like to take next. Now, I wonder about the future of our planet.
The last time I wrote publicly about my kids, they were young. They’re still young, of course, but if you were to ask them, they would tell you they are old. And that, of course, makes me worse than old. That makes me irrelevant.
Sometime last year, I was informed that I was too old to use the word “dude” in public. Even ironically. Never mind that this only made me more likely to show up at school pick-up saying things like, “Dude! How was your day?” The point had been made: I was officially becoming embarrassing.