LSJ Blogs: John Schneider

Memorial Day no picnic

Not entirely, anyway. Let’s all keep in mind, as we race to our cottages, or machete our way through our lawns, those who have made — and continue to make — the ultimate sacrifice in defense of our freedom and security.

 

Just tell the lawn cops you’re “naturalizing”

A telephone tipster — a city employee, I’d guess — told me the other day that the city parks folks are planning a “naturalization” program, also known as benign  neglect.

‘Why do you hate poor people?’

I’m mystified that I have to say this yet again, but here goes: I am 100 percent in favor of seeing my tax dollars — plus 5 percent of my household income, by the way — go to help the needy.

The working-hard-to-avoid-being-poor class

Reactions to my column about lobster, steak and Mountain Dew on a Bridge Card was robust and diverse— from “Something needs to be done,” to “You call yourself a journalist …?”

Ticket fees are the devil’s work

If anybody really did get sucked up to heaven Saturday, it surely wasn’t those people who add random charges to entertainment tickets.

Whew! We still have five months left …

Although, what with earthquakes, floods and other harbingers of the apocalypse, it might not be the most pleasant five months.

‘He did the right thing,’ his lawyer says

The story of $2 million lottery winner Leroy Fick continuing to use his Bridge  Card — with the blessing of the state Department of Human Services — is rich on so many levels I hardly know where to start.

Another high-speed police chase; another body

Would 20-year-old LCC student Carl A. Stamm IV be alive today if Livingston County Sheriff’s deputies hadn’t chased him and his crotch rocket down I-96 Tuesday? Quite possibly. But it’s not that simple.

Go Green. Sales tax on golf cart rentals?

Rich Sorg is a golfer. He’s also retired. In other words he sees his share of mid-Michigan golf courses. He has noticed one puzzling thing unique to MSU’s two courses.

Without the smoking cigar, she’s got no case

Responding to Sunday’s column, in which I alluded to  the mysterious demise of my tomato plants last year, Peggy Reyna of Lansing asked — in an accusing manner, I might add — “Were you smoking a stogie when you planted those tomato plants last year?”