The pretty setting and glittering ship and dashing staff and sedulous servants and solicitous fun-managers all want something from me, and it’s not just the price of my ticket—they’ve already got that.

One thing a nominee earns is the right to pick the vice president that they think will best reflect their vision of the country, and I am just glad I will have nothing to do with it.

A dour turning in this era of ultrasecurity has motor vehicle officials in four states banning open-faced smiles on photo identification licenses.

What’s the matter, can’t God create decent jobs in His own country instead of minimum-wage, McDonald’s-esque slavery?