The Observer posed a puzzler in our pre-Christmas column, opening the floor to any old Central High alums who might know the purpose of the round, domed objects — which we called "bells," due to their resemblance to the old fire-bells in our own rinky-dink high school — which are under nearly every seat we saw during a recent visit to the big auditorium at Central. As we figured, some among our smart readers knew the answer.
Attorney General Dustin McDaniel insisted Tuesday in a field-all-questions news conference that the potential release of personal text messages in a Garland County homicide case didn't prompt his decision to admit to a past affair with Hot Springs lawyer Andi Davis.
Nearly half of the state legislators who will convene at the State Capitol on Jan. 14 for the start of the 89th General Assembly maintain Twitter accounts. By our count, that includes 53 state representatives and 19 state senators.
Although I am grateful to be included in the yoga community with being so new, I really did not appreciate this comment in the "Yoga yoga yoga" article (Jan. 2): "The only thing about yin, or at least Stacey's yin class, is that it practically ignores the upper body. After class, you're floating from the waist down, and from the waist up, you're still tight as a fiddle."
Misguided and obstinate, proponents of school vouchers have promised that voucher legislation will be offered in the 2013 session. And with the new Republican majority, the chance of passage is good. Friends of the public schools, and believers in the separation of church and state, should be building their defenses. With bricks.
Asa Hutchinson's announcement that he'll run for governor again next year inevitably brought Harold Stassen to mind. Like Hutchinson, Stassen was a frequently unsuccessful political candidate, running for president nine times.
When gun-industry vassals like Jay Dickey and Mike Ross throw in the towel, you start to think that Congress may finally be ready to try to stop the carnage in schools, churches and public spaces by passing effective controls on mass-murder weaponry.
Politically speaking, we live by caricature. Particularly in the age of satellite TV news and Internet fulmination, the temptation is to melodrama. So I wasn't terribly surprised to read a recent article in the online magazine Salon arguing that "even though it's a truism of American public discourse that the Civil War never ended, it's also literally true."
The closure of another college football season came this week, and again an SEC team (more specifically, those ever-lovable, filthy rogues from Tuscaloosa) claimed the kingdom by way of a 28-point thrashing of Notre Dame that was in no way actually that close. You will read much about the conference's string of seven straight national championships, but this heretofore-unseen dominance is truly a buzzkill like no other. Who wants to sit down on a sleepy Monday night and watch these kinds of slaughters year after year?
Before last Friday night, the saddest, most "depressing" Depression-era story I had read was Horace McCoy's "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?" However, after watching The Arkansas Repertory Theatre's opening performance of William Inge's "A Loss of Roses," I can attest that this play is as rough and unflinching as that Depression-era tale, or any other.
Perhaps U.S. Rep. Tim Griffin might want to reconsider his earlier decision not to include Republican Rep. Loy Mauch on the list of Republican candidates he'd asked not to use his campaign contributions, having read some of what they'd written.