Keeping up with the Joneses just got three times as difficult.
Contrary to Bill Murray’s Peter Venkman character in “Ghostbusters” — who at one point in the movie admits he’s “fuzzy on the whole good-bad thing” — I believe the concept is actually quite simple.
I get the feeling that every once in awhile the government misses the whole point of issuing a product recall.
I know I like to pretend that I’m this crotchety old Luddite who hates all the newfangled technology that the younger generations are embracing. (“Hey you punk kids, get off my VHS format!”)
How did I completely miss out on the latest riveting episode of “So You Think You’re Patriotic Enough to Call Yourself an American?”
June is shaping up to be a particularly tough month for white, heterosexual, Christian males.
FORT BUENAVENTURA — Well, isn’t that just like an old person? Goes to a music festival and complains about how loud it is.
How big is too big?
So, is everybody completely choo-chooed out by now?
For decades, the small Wyoming town of Evanston meant just one thing to many of us in Northern Utah.
“April showers,” they say, “bring May flowers.”
Think about the most unexpected plot twists of the last half-century.
When I was just a little tyke, I loved the merry-go-round.
Apparently, at some point in the past decade, the voters of Utah quietly elected God to Congress.
By now, the verbal cage match between Oklahoma City Thunder basketball player Russell Westbrook and Utah Jazz fan Shane Keisel has been hashed and re-hashed to the point where there’s probably not much else left to say.
How does one become a professional photojournalist at the Standard-Examiner?
Some laws just aren’t what they used to be.
So, you want a new state flag?
Yes, yes. I’m sure we can all agree that sexual harassment is a bad thing. Why, I suppose one could argue that it may even rise to the level of being a very bad thing.
Ozone and particulate matter aren’t the only dangerous things floating around Northern Utah this February.
I was on the phone with a reader Friday morning when Standard-Examiner executive editor Jordan Carroll walked up to my desk.
Remember when you thought the absolute stupidest thing a human being could come up with was the Tide Pod Challenge?
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We begin this week with an apology:
It’s almost Christmas Eve, that special night when Santa Claus travels the world, leaving presents for all the good girls and boys — and lumps of coal for the bad ones.
If it’s December, it must be time for this embedded journalist’s annual report from the the front lines of the War on Christmas.
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On this Thanksgiving weekend, it seems only fitting to take a moment to talk about the things for which we’re thankful.
It was — even for those of us who didn’t know him all that well — nothing short of a gut punch.
“Donald Trump is the worst president in U.S. history. He ought to be impeached.”
It’s almost Halloween. Wanna hear something really scary?
OK, people. It’s time to address the emotional support elephant in the room.
Mark the date, people: Oct. 6, 2018.
Let this be a lesson to you teenagers out there: Nothing good can ever come from being young, horny and stupid.
You should know I don’t give a rat’s rear end about my physical address.
OGDEN — It took more than 40 years, but I finally attended my very first homecoming dance.
Talk about your shams …
I don’t like to say “I told you so,” but, well, I did indeed tell you so.
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I’m not saying it’s like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
Just in time for the impending War in Space, along comes …
“For whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.”
Global warming, global schmarming.
Thanks to an unhinged gunman with a grudge against an East Coast newspaper, it’s about to start heating up here in the Standard-Examiner’s newsroom.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in nearly three decades of writing opinion pieces for the Standard-Examiner, it’s that no situation is so utterly, hopelessly and totally messed up that a certain half-witted columnist can’t make it much worse by chiming in on the subject.
I’ve never put much stock in awards.
Con·sult·ant (kən sult’nt) n. A person you pay for doing the job you were supposed to be doing in the first place.
We really need to pace ourselves, people.
