Archive

by David Weinshilboum I don’t believe in God. I just don’t. I’m not coming to your door to proselytize. I am not saying that my belief is any better than yours. Goodness knows I’m not going to file a lawsuit to redact the term “God”...
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by David Weinshilboum Recently, I’ve been watching “Game of Thrones,” a television series about a fictional land called Westeros where men connive to attain power, women withstand a misogynistic culture, knights duel to the death, and magic and dragons are always around the corner. In...
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by David Weinshilboum The United States of America is facing an education crisis. The average American high school graduate is only expected to read and write at the junior high level, and higher education is rapidly becoming inaccessible to more and more U.S. teens due...
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by David Weinshilboum I was on autopilot. I was strolling my then 18-month-old son, Merret, along a bicycle path. It was a lazy summer day around 4 p.m. It was hot, and the sun’s rays angled across our path. While I continued to talk to...
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by David Weinshilboum This was supposed to be a silly little column about a minor injustice. I was going to vent about a bullshit parking ticket and, perhaps, cause a few of you to giggle a knowing Schadenfreude giggle. But the more I’ve thought about...
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by David Weinshilboum My two sons constantly amaze me. Not long ago, my 10-year-old son Alex sat me down and gave me “the chat” about college. He explained that, while he was sure that the community college where I taught was an exceptional institution, he...
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by David Weinshilboum I hate spin. It disgusts me when a politician attempts to manipulate audience with elision of fact or terminological trickery. Needless to say, I’m not looking forward to the next presidential election. My abhorrence of spin makes me a fan of old-school...
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by David Weinshilboum Turning 40 is a wonderful, exhilarating experience. You become older, wiser and more prepared for what the world has in store for you. One doesn’t get older; one gets better! As someone who recently turned “the big four-oh,” I can confirm that...
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by David Weinshilboum When I was 5-years-old, I wanted a dog. Sure, my sister had a dog—a toy poodle named Licorice—but that dog hated me. He would growl any time I got within 10 yards of him. Of course, I tried to cram him into...
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