When I think of modern America, conjured up is an image of a boxer who, while sometimes bobbing, weaving, blocking, and occasionally directing a blow with his right, intermittently hits himself in the head with his left. I also might then imagine how the other man in the ring would laugh upon witnessing the spectacle of an opponent who, inexplicably, does half his job for him.

Becky AkersIf you’re among the ever-diminishing minority still entrusting yourself to America’s aviation gulag, don’t forget your cellphone. This invaluable weapon can protect you from the 50,000 terrorists menacing our skies. You know, the thugs wearing the brown — sorry, blue shirts and gloves of the Transportation Security Administration (TSA), the ones who claim they’re only doing their jobs as they fondle 13-year-old girls and torment toddlers.

Inflated self-esteem can be decidedly counterproductive.

American students, for example, took first place in self-judged mathematical ability in a comparative study of eight countries, but last place in actual mathematical competency.

Two weeks after the Democrats' joyride with rock star Obama hit a very jarring bump on the road, many members of the nation's oldest political party are no doubt wondering what hit them. I here suggest that in addition to the public's general disdain for big government solutions to government-created problems, what hit the Democrats was a backlash from voters who are tired of their assault on decency in the name of compassion.

One of the things that made William F. Buckley, Jr. so much fun to read in the days before National Review became a house organ for Republican propaganda was that Buckley and others in his large and fun-loving orbit took such obvious, unrestrained delight in poking fun at liberal icons without the phony sentimentalism and sham decorum that prevented most writers from saying anything that would cause more respectable establishment commentators to say "Tsk tsk." When Eleanor Roosevelt died, for example, Buckley wrote in his syndicated column: "Following Mrs. Roosevelt in search of an irrationality was like following a lighted fuse in search of an explosion." One never had to wait very long.