Is it any more acceptable to posthumously baptize a devout Catholic than to do it to a Jew? Now the LDS Church has done it to a hero of the Holocaust, Jan Karski.
The Nashville retiree who rammed his SUV into a car bearing an Obama/Biden sticker last March has copped a plea. The sentence he received is a lot lighter than some observers were advocating, but it's in line with the victim's recommendation to prosecutors.
In lawsuits filed nationwide, seeking class-action status, current and former soldiers allege that KBR's "burn pits" on bases in Iraq and Afghanistan contain dioxin, asbestos and human corpses.
I grabbed my digital recorder as soon as I realized what this call was tonight. Doubt it has much significance, but I submit it to the wisdom of crowds.
TARP's chief cop flew to Nashville this morning to announce a guilty plea by Gordon Grigg, an unlicensed financial adviser who included claims of a special TARP sauce in his menu of fraudulent investments.
I was copied on a three-way exchange of e-mails over the weekend that offers insights colored by intimate understanding of life under communism. With their permission, I am sharing excerpts below.
Doug lives in Moscow. He has been in Russia and neighboring countries for more than a decade. Will has spent a great deal of time in Eastern Europe. John lived in Venezuela under the rule of Chavez for several years.
On February 29, 1976, a phone call from John Seigenthaler to 28-year-old Al Gore Jr. set in motion the beginning of a political career whose twists and turns have been unique in American history.
Included in this story about that call and its aftermath are audio links with never-before-broadcast recollections from the late Sen. Albert Gore Sr. of his son's decision to run for the congressional seat vacated by Joe L. Evins. I interviewed the senator in 1992 for a feature on Al Gore's journalistic career:
Albert Gore Sr. was in California on the morning of March 1 when the telephone woke him at about 2:00 a.m. He picked up the phone and heard his son's voice. "Son! Are you hurt?" asked the Senator.
"No, no Dad. Nothing bad has happened. Congressman Joe Evins has just announced he will not seek re-election, and I'm running."
The father paused. "That sort of took my breath away," he recalls, "and I finally got around to saying, 'Well, son, I'll vote for you.' That's the extent of the conversation we had and the part I had in his decision to run for Congress."
Just thought I'd share.
Not even free beer for the fratboys of the Univ. of South Carolina could draw a crowd for Fred Thompson's non-concession speech, reports Ken:
To call the mood here at the Thompson rally somber would be a grave understatement. The crowd is far smaller than the TV cameras will make it appear.
A girl at the front door, attempting to up the turnout is calling to passersby offering "beer, soda, chips and Fred Thompson." So far I have seen more than a few fraternity types come inside for a free beer and promptly leave.
[prior posting from on the scene today, after the jump]
As $18 million evaporates in an alleged Ponzi scheme, a bankruptcy trustee has sued the Nashville megachurch of controversial preacher Maury Davis, seeking the return of some $176,000 in contributions from the scam company to the church.
My wife, our three-year-old daughter and I arrived in England on September 4, 2001, embarking on what would be a stay of two years and four months. I was starting work on a graduate degree at Cambridge.
At about 2:30 on the afternoon of September 11, a neighbor whom I had met the day before pounded on the door of our flat. Roy was about 70, a working stiff in a flat woolen cap, and he had a crazed look in his eyes when I opened the door. "Tom! Tom!" he shouted. "They've flown an aeroplane into the Fair Trade Center! In New York! Turn on your telly!"
Between my initial assumption that the Fair Trade Center must be in Guatemala and a good deal of puzzlement at Roy's East Anglian drawl, I was slow to process this information. In due course, though, we rushed back to the kitchen and turned on the 1970s-vintage black-and-white TV our landlord had provided.
The following weekend, I sent the message below to friends. I'm posting it verbatim on this anniversary as a document of its time.
--Tom Wood, Nashville