E. R. BILLS
Oh beautiful for spacious skies, for emerald waves of cannabis . . . . OK, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. It’s just the first thing that came to mind when I heard “pot” had finally hit the big time...
Is Fort Worth City Council getting the big cullions to go up against the old-money, Westside, trust-fund caretakers? Well no, not usually, but two actions at last week’s council meeting went against the accepted Fort Wort...
The only thing bigger than the Trans-Texas Corridor may be the rebellion against it.
Four thousand miles of smooth blacktop. Six open lanes of road with never a traffic jam.
Activists say JPS can take care of immigrants without hurting local pocketbooks.
Maria is 47 years old. She’s a diabetic whose kidneys are shutting down. She needs renal dialysis at least three times a week. She gets the treatment only about once a month, however, and then only after showing up in critica...
The president, some members of Congress, and several influential commentators have called for the United States to send thousands of additional military troops to Iraq.
A tip of Static’s dented cowboy hat to The Dallas Morning News for its recent series of articles revealing DynCorp’s corrupt and downright creepy way of doing business.
Police oppose limits on their use of the ‘less-than-lethal’ weapons.
If State Rep. Lon Burnam has his way, beginning next September, police across the state are going to have to think twice about pulling their high-voltage Taser weapons and zapping members of the public whenever the mood strikes.
Being the father of a teenage daughter these days is fraught with all sorts of wonderment and melancholy and insanity. We have a nice time when we talk about movies and music and maybe some news issues, but it all goes downhill...
Nobody can accuse Jarid Manos of dreaming small. When he and his Great Plains Restoration Council found out about the 2,000 acres of prairie near Lake Benbrook, their first thought was to save the property, one of the last rema...
His country-music raising got him started, but Waylon Payne’s talent — and his demons — drive him on.
The stereo in Waylon Payne’s 1989 Mercedes Benz is blasting “Mama, Drive On” as he barrels down a farm road west of Fort Worth. A breeze whips through the sunroof and knocks ashes off his Marlboro, but he doesn’t notice...