Jess Lahitou

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.

I recognize there are loads of readers who think the Republican Party’s demise is nothing to cry about. I get that. But for centuries, our country has relied on two strong, restrained parties that operate along shared political norms.

While watching the third Republican debate last night on CNBC, I thought to myself: Self, you’re going to have to write a straight review of this thing. The candidates are too wonky tonight to be caricatured, and even Donald Trump has reigned himself in significantly. The debate was billed as “Your Money, Your Vote,” and the questions hewed pretty close to the economy. Read: not many social-issues gaffe bait.

To her own admitted surprise, Fessler discovered that meaningless, detached hookups were emphatically not bringing any kind of bliss to college women.

This is the first time I’ve seen a sitting president “spin” a clear military defeat to save his own ego, and use a bereft and heartbroken wife in order to get away with it. Disgust is not the right word. Horror, maybe. Disbelief and revulsion crashing into each other.

Four years ago, my husband took a job transfer to Bogota, Colombia.

Hello, Americans. Another Wednesday morning, another nightmare day after Tuesday voting. What happened last night? Donald Trump won three out of four states.

Just in case you thought Trump would go away after the election (provided Secretary Clinton wins), allow me to help you prepare for what might be h

Millennials know the '90s were the best decade for music in our lifetime (arguably, best decade EVER). But it’s easy to forget just how many un-freakin-believably kick-butt-love tunes were packed into that 10 years. Let’s rehash the '90s for the autumn lover.

I am hesitant to write anything that might tangentially help Donald Trump, because I think the man entirely unfit to be president.