Jess Lahitou

With Twitter awash in letters of goodbyes, 140-word final messages from “collateral damage,” my heart broke last night. That doesn’t mean anything, and neither does this: I want to say I’m sorry to Syria.

It is a rare day when a Congressional committee garners tabloid-like coverage, but Thursday was one of those days.

That Christmas Eve in Vegas changed me for life. I’ve tried to remember not to deny myself the things I love about the holiday.

Throughout this long and increasingly nightmarish primary season, an argument emerged from Republican candidates who were routinely getting their butts handed to them by Donald Trump.

Everyone but Michael Moore underestimated the level of economic angst and cultural upheaval occurring in the Rust Belt, that collection of states forming a sloped capital “E” along the Great Lakes: Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania.

Trump’s stratospheric rise in public polls has got me thinking about the possibility of him actually being elected and what that would mean for American women. And I can’t help but be reminded of the similarities between Trump and the former Prime Minister of Italy, Silvio Berlusconi.

A few weeks ago, I thought we might actually celebrate the end of the 2016 election.

Maybe you’re an aspiring novelist, or maybe you know one.

Last night, the saga continued. Fox Business Network hosted the fourth Republican Primary debate, with a slightly winnowed set of contenders: the top eight candidates were on stage, compared with ten in the previous showdown.

The workings of Congress are pretty fascinating. If you like The Borgias, The Tudors, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, then following the seemingly innocuous happenings in DC is a fascinating enterprise. You know that this is where the real action happens.