Richard Crowson Commentary

Politicians can run but they cannot hide from political cartoonist (and banjo player) Richard Crowson and his watchdog, Al. Tune in on alternate Wednesdays to hear the latest.

Richard's commentary can also be heard through iTunes. Listen or subscribe here.

Richard Crowson

When I got up this morning I was sore as I could be
There was pain in every square inch anatomically
Felt like my entire body was just one big bruise
Maybe it’s because I fell asleep last night watching the news

I got a used pair of eclipse glasses
I guess I’ll put ‘em up for sale online.
There must be somebody out there that needs ‘em
For looking at a thing that’s got a bright shine.

I can still recall the emotional gumbo that the first days of each school year used to fill me with: the excitement of seeing my old schoolmates and curiosity about the new faces, and of course, getting my first impression of that new teacher standing before us all. I’d cross my fingers in hopes this new instructor would be one that I liked.

The President speaks to a Boy Scout Jamboree and suddenly scouts have a new campfire song to sing:

Jellaluna / Flickr / Creative Commons

This commentary originally aired on July 18, 2014.

It strikes me that among the ethereal mysteries of our planet, there are some that it would be deeply challenging to explain to a visitor from another world. Some of these pleasures are things like music, art and lightning bugs.

I ran over to the grocery yesterday in a panic. I’d been contemplating the Senate Republican health care bill.

I’m just going to borrow an old Hank Williams song here to celebrate how the 2017 Kansas Legislature converted our state with a good old-fashioned born-again experience!

century2.org


Sometimes it seems like Wichita sits inside of a giant pinball machine. A spring-loaded lever gets pulled and a big ol’ ball rolls around banging into this and into that. Except what it’s banging into are historic buildings, and as for the ball itself: It’s a wrecking ball.

Well, it’s not quite summertime, but it is Bummertime…

I stood damply beneath a wind-warped umbrella recently in my front yard, the temperature around 40 degrees, waiting for Lucy to find the perfect patch of grass.

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