Lackawanna County Commissioner Laureen Cummings is a big Trump fan, even to the point of often sounding like him.
The she-says/he-denies standoff — wherein a California college professor alleges that Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh sexually assaulted her 36 years ago at a high-school party — is partly the result of the #metoo movement and of the broken and polarized politics of Washington, DC. Most Republicans are treading lightly (well, not all, actually) around the midterm peril of ignoring or attacking Professor Ford’s accusations in their headlong bid to ram through Kavanaugh’s confirmation. The nominee, meanwhile, has done his credibility no favors, as leaked documents and emails show that he repeatedly has been less than fully forthcoming in sworn testimony.
But, of course, the fix likely is in. Assuming Kavanaugh doesn’t shoot someone in broad daylight on Fifth Avenue (an act apparently reserved for the accused serial sexual assaulter who nominated him), he’ll almost certainly be railroaded to a lifetime appointment to a stolen court seat, overseeing the nation’s civil liberties, reproductive rights, environmental regulations and corporate power.
Lackawanna County Commissioner Patrick O’Malley would rather do almost anything on earth other than actually govern. His stubborn and misplaced resistance to conducting a county reassessment to ensure fairer property taxation is Exhibit A. Rather than doing the right and responsible thing that might be unpopular and cost him some votes, he pursues a bread-and-circuses agenda that includes New Year’s Eve parties and a new county fair.
The state Attorney-General’s investigation into the operation of the Scranton School District kicked into high gear Tuesday with the release of a grand jury presentment detailing the ways in which the district’s fleet manager allegedly fleeced city taxpayers. Aided and abetted by at least one other unnamed co-conspirator, the state accuses Dan Sansky of raking in thousands of dollars through double-billings and phony invoices.
The presentment itself is worth a read, detailing as it does the buddy-buddy, wink-and-nod style of corruption for which NEPA is famous. One of my favorite bits — where he advised a district employee to cover a vehicle’s “CHECK ENGINE” light with electrical tape — strongly suggests that in addition to being an alleged thief, Sansky wasn’t much of a mechanic.
Clarks Summit University (formerly Summit University, and before that formerly Baptist Bible College) made headlines this week when it told a gay student seeking to finish the last six credits toward his bachelor’s degree to, in essence, “get lost.” Setting aside Biblical arguments over the righteousness or wickedness of one’s sexual identity (I happen to think the question’s irrelevant), it seems counterproductive for a school that’s seen a 50 percent drop in undergraduate enrollment from 2000 to 2016 to turn down anyone’s money.
Despite his recent, deliberative steps to address allegations of coverup against former Scranton Diocese Bishop James Timlin, current Bishop Joseph Bambera sometimes seems like the apple that didn’t fall far from the the tree.
Businesses and environmentalists debate water quality protection and stream designations in Monroe County.
Trump has rolled through life cutting corners and skirting the edges of the law. Each time he’s been called on the carpet, his legal team wrangles a settlement usually involving a big check and/or a finding of no wrong-doing. I’d bet the farm he wishes such was the case, now.
Rest in Peace, Judge William J. Nealon.
Erstwhile personal attorney to the President and current admitted felon promises to deliver the goods on Trump to Robert Mueller, or anyone else for that matter.
Financially beleaguered Scranton School District is receiving a $6 million cash infusion for instructional purposes. Guess who cuts to the front of the line to demand the lion’s share of that largesse? Yep.
Last week’s Pennsylvania Investigative Grand Jury report has prompted the University of Scranton to remove the names of three retired bishops from campus buildings, including “Timlin House,” named for 91-year-old James C. Timlin.