If there’s one truth I’ve learned (and lived) again and again, it’s this: Success doesn’t happen by accident. It leaves a trail. It leaves footprints. It leaves clues — subtle ones, obvious ones, and occasionally flashing-neon-billboard ones. And if we pay attention, we can learn from people
Friends, The only upside to living through this dark time is it pushes us to rethink and perhaps totally remake things we once thought immutable. Like the Democratic Party. In case you hadn’t noticed, the current Democratic Party is dysfunctional if not dead. Better dysfunctional than a fascist cult
Gather ‘round, friends, because election season is upon us again, never left actually! Otherwise known as the national sport of mass hysteria. And happening now? The grand revival of our country’s favorite ghost story: “Democratic Socialists are COMMUNISTS!!!” (Insert dramatic organ music and one fainting goat.) Before Grandpa Earl
I’ve been thinking a lot about hope lately — that slippery, glitter-covered concept we clutch like a security blanket when the world’s on fire. Hope is the thing we’re supposed to have, supposed to spread, supposed to embody in our hashtags and holiday cards. But honestly? Hope feels
They don’t have plans. They have panic. What they call “policy” is a blunt instrument: mass raids, masked federal squads, and a scorched-earth answer to problems that never had to be reduced to human hunting. Instead of offering real solutions — jobs, housing, mental-health care, infrastructure, a functional immigration system
Good morning! The champagne still hasn’t stopped fizzing at Mar-a-Lago, though the rest of the country can’t afford bubbles in their tap water. On Halloween night, as D.C. police and National Guardsmen tried to corral chaos at the Navy Yard, Donald Trump and his entourage were busy
Good morning, lucky souls. If you remembered to whisper “Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit” before your feet hit the floor today, congratulations — the universe owes you one smooth month. If you forgot, go ahead and say it now. I’m not sure the cosmic record-keepers mind a little tardiness; they’re probably
Something Wicked This Way Comes—But Hopefully It’s Just Candy Corn Happy Halloween, friends! The pumpkins are glowing, the air smells like leaves and sugar, and the neighborhood dogs are wondering why every small human suddenly turned into a witch, a dinosaur, or a mini Spider-Man. Before anything else—
Julie Bolejack, MBA
A very upset parent called to complain to me - evidently, her school was teaching her child “pronouns.” She was appalled. She asked me to do an Advice column on what she called "gender ideology.” I did what I always do when someone calls me with a question for
Please watch, share and keep listening to this truth teller. Julie Bolejack, MBA
It began with a lie. We were told the East Wing would be “untouched.” That this grand piece of American history — the people’s wing — would remain preserved to build a new ballroom. Don’t worry, they said. Don’t listen to the “hysterics.” Everything’s fine. And then, one