All posts by Chuck Fager

Hiroshima, El Paso, Dayton & Us

“. . .[F]or a party that associates itself with Christianity to say that it is ok, to suggest that God would smile on the division of families at the hands of federal agents, that God would condone putting children in cages has lost all claim to ever use religious language again.”

Of course, that shot hit the target not only because of its truth, but also because Buttigieg actually takes religion seriously. Yet it’s also a useful example. If progressives are going to take on those who are whipping up the dark psychic forces, I’m one who thinks it will take more than position papers, polls and platitudes.

“Quaking Over Gay Rights” — Kicked in The Head in Wichita

There have been a lot of distractions during Pride Month 2025: a coup, a war, shocking Supreme Court rulings, a flop of a tank march, the soaring success of its No Kings rival — I won’t even try to list all the major ones. In June’s waning days, this blog will play some catchup: a … Continue reading “Quaking Over Gay Rights” — Kicked in The Head in Wichita →

A Hidden piece of Black History: “White Lies,” Selma, Two Murders, & A Cameo

Below is a news photo from late February, 1965. It turned up several years back (hat tip to the sharp-eyed Lewis Lewis): it was taken on the steps of Brown Chapel AME Church in Selma, when John Lewis (center-left, with a tie) announced the plan to march from Selma to Montgomery. The goal of the … Continue reading A Hidden piece of Black History: “White Lies,” Selma, Two Murders, & A Cameo →

Church Sex Scandals, and the Buried Lead

The Southern Baptists, you ask me, buried the lead (or lede if you’re old school) about their 2019 national convention as deep as possible: The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) in Birmingham, Alabama last week was driven by recent, sensational news reports of hundreds of unaddressed sexual abuse cases involving SBC pastors and other church … Continue reading Church Sex Scandals, and the Buried Lead →

Colorism & Daylilies: A Confession

In both places, and along innumerable roads between, beginning mid-spring of each year the orange daylilies gawked and mocked at me from their roadside strongholds. I grimly respected their endurance, but it was clear my death stares failed to faze them.

And finally there was some relief, even during the tough southern summers: my mail delivery days were behind me. I had scrabbled over the threshold into the large category of southerners who wisely regard central air to be fully as vital to survival as water, barbecue or even Duke’s Mayonnaise.

Maybe it was only after I became re-acclimatized, several years into this southern sojourn, that I was ready to take in a startling revelation: turning a corner in some verdant neighborhood, I beheld a familiar green stalk, but one topped by a bloom of an unfamiliar hue.