Picture this: You’re a sports fan, even a casual one. You’re walking down the street, and someone accidentally bumps into your shoulder
There are so many things that make the killing of Osama bin Laden absolutely delicious: the hypocrisy of his being nabbed in a million-dollar, suburban compound even as he sent others to their deaths; the fear he must have felt as his bedroom door burst open and he found himself staring down the barrel of an American weapon held by an American soldier; the ignominious end his remains met dumped overboard into the Arabian Sea like so much unwanted rubbish.
Several years into my father’s journey down the narrowing road of Alzheimer’s, when he was still going out for walks, I looped my arm through his one afternoon and walked with him along a leafy street near my parents’ home. A few people recognized him, waved and called out, “Hello, Mr.
Fresh off their 27th World Series win, the New York Yankees will take a victory lap through lower Manhattan on the morning of Nov. 6.
More than 37 million people visit Las Vegas each year for its glitz, glamour and lure of hitting a jackpot.