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.

Standing out like a darkened bulb amidst a string of bright Christmas lights, holiday grief visits many this time of year. Marketers bombard us with images of togetherness: jubilant party-goers, families sharing holiday meals, hearty toasts and squeals of glee.

The pressure to be sociable and full of joy can make you feel like you’re in an elevator that’s packed with a dozen plump, tipsy Santas, squeezed between their bowls full of jelly as a deafening stream of “Ho ho hos” assaults your ears.

Having a cold during these early days of December is a pretty nostalgic experience for me. It seems like during my childhood I was often sick around the holidays. I contracted most of the 1950s childhood illnesses between my Thanksgivings and Christmases – mumps, chicken pox and measles. They all came down my chimney during the holidays.

    

The lavishness of autumn is a sumptuous feast for the senses. You can feel the heaviness of the air, carrying with it the weight of expectation. It’s damp, it’s cool and it holds the promise of change. The sounds of rustling leaves, the sleepy drone of rainfall and the hissing of wet car tires down dampened streets.

The fragrance of wet earth, the freshly fallen moist leaves and the tree trunks darkened from the rain, releasing their woody scent.

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Lately I’ve had several friends click their ruby slippers together and move out of Kansas, away from heartless budget slashers, brainless science deniers and cowardly, lying politicians…so why not sing!

With Halloween just a little over a week away, it’s time to start thinking about what sort of scary costumes your family’s trick-or-treaters are going to wear. Fortunately, there are some super simple yet truly frightening trick-or-treating outfits these days.

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Frequently in this space I sing little satirical songs about something in the news. Today, I don’t have a song.

I can’t find words that rhyme with “carnage” and with “tragedy.” Even if such rhymes did exist, there’s just not a melody somber enough to convey the way I feel about gun violence.

Bill Gracey, flickr Creative Commons

Well, hello there, fellow Kansas heartlanders…I was just sitting here gulping espresso and trying my darnedest to (big yawn) stay awake and alert. After all, our pulse rate here in the heart of Kansas was supposed to be zipping along at warp speed by now. Gov. Sam Brownback’s great trickle-down economics experiment, in which he gave a massive tax cut to the rich and eliminated business taxes, was supposed to have us all buzzing around like manic hummingbirds on sugar water.

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I don’t know about you, but when I think of separation of church and state, I think of playing Frank Sinatra melodies on the banjo… (to tune of “Love and Marriage”)

Church and state, Church and state
Jefferson said they should separate
Though some folks dispute it
No historian can refute it

Church and state, Church and state
The wall between ‘em should be tall and straight
Huckabee might hate it
But church and state are separated

Abigail Wilson

 


song time…

Brian Valentine, flickr Creative Commons

KMUW editorial commentator Richard Crowson has called a temporary truce on some summertime pests.

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