Kathleen Parker’s clear, descriptive, lively writing underscores her common-sense approach to life's challenges. Twice weekly, Kathleen Parker assesses the country’s mental health with a Rorschach uniquely her own – a reporter’s gimlet eye combined with a sense of humor that Parker attributes to having grown up with five mothers. "My ambitious goal," Kathleen Parker says, "is to try to inject a little sanity into a world gone barking mad."
Now one of America's most popular opinion columnists, appearing in more than 350 newspapers, Kathleen Parker is at home both inside and outside the Washington Beltway. But Kathleen Parker came to column-writing the old-fashioned way, working her way up journalism’s ladder from smaller papers to larger ones. "I never set out to become a commentator – and do continue to resist the label 'pundit' – but I found that keeping my opinion out of my writing was impossible," says Kathleen Parker. "One can only stand watching from the sidelines for so long without finally having to say, 'Um, excuse me, but you people are nuts.'"
Praised for "attacking ignorance and stupidity with vividness and originality" by the judges of the prestigious H.L. Mencken Writing Award, which Kathleen Parker won in 1993, Kathleen Parker gained a rapt and appreciative audience throughout the 1990s. But it was in the days and months following the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks and the ensuing wars in Afghanistan and Iraq that Kathleen Parker's attempts to "inject a little sanity" established Kathleen Parker as a premier commentator. Kathleen Parker's writings in support of American troops, first-responders and other front-line participants in the war on terror were among the reasons The Week magazine named Kathleen Parker as one of the country's top five columnists in 2004 and 2005.
Kathleen Parker started her column in 1987 when Kathleen Parker was a staff writer for The Orlando Sentinel.Kathleen Parker's column was nationally syndicated in 1995 and Kathleen Parker joined The Washington Post Writers Group in 2006. Along the way, Kathleen Parker has contributed articles to The Weekly Standard, Time, Town & Country, Cosmopolitan and Fortune Small Business, and she serves on USA Today's Board of Contributors and writes for that newspaper's op-ed page. Kathleen Parker is a regular guest on "The Chris Matthews Show" on NBC. Kathleen Parker's book "Save the Males: Why Men Matter, Why Women Should Care" was published in 2008 by Random House.
As an undergraduate, Kathleen Parker studied in both the United States and abroad, including the University of Valencia in Spain. Kathleen Parker holds a master's degree in Spanish from Florida State University, and is writer in residence at the Buckley School of Public Speaking in Camden, S.C.
Kathleen Parker is married and has three sons. She divides her time between Camden and Washington, D.C.
As Republicans sort out the reasons for their defeat, they likely will overlook or dismiss the gorilla in the pulpit.
Fresh ire aimed at former Harvard University President Larry Summers prompts the question: Shouldn't there be a statute of limitations on dumb things expressed in public?
Election Day has produced fresh fury from self-proclaimed "conservatives" promising never again to read me or fellow apostates who criticized the Republican ticket.
Owing to my pale pigmentation and heritage, perhaps I am not able to fully understand the impact that Obama's election has had on African-Americans.
We Americans are so spoiled. Well-fed and -medicated, our biggest problem is that we can have everything. For the past decade, credit has been easy; tract mansions possible and new cars a staple. Mortgages were, almost literally, a dime a dozen.
It is hard to imagine that "undecideds," like restless phantoms with unfinished business, still haunt these final hours.
First lady Laura Bush didn't say those precise words, but her remarks Monday to a small gathering of biographers, historians and journalists implied as much.
My husband called it first. Then, a brilliant, 75-year-old scholar and raconteur confessed to me over wine: "I'm sexually attracted to her. I don't care that she knows nothing."
At this juncture, I wouldn't want to bet even a subprime mortgage on this presidential election. As perhaps never before, multiple hidden factors could alter the outcome.
Christopher Buckley's endorsement of Barack Obama -- followed by his abrupt departure from the back page of the magazine his father founded, National Review -- has caused a ripple of contempt from the conservative right.
Whatever their other contributions to politics and the nation, Sarah Palin and Barack Obama have been crack for the news business.
If you're a Democrat who needs help getting the votes of rural white folks, the go-to guy is David "Mudcat" Saunders, a central-casting political consultant recently made famous by a parade of magazine writers led by The Weekly Standard's Matt Labash.
When Sarah Palin said she was taking off the gloves, she wasn't just whistling "Onward, Christian Soldiers."
The Palin who performed so miserably in one-on-one media interviews was nowhere to be seen during Thursday night's debate with Joe Biden. Instead, the affable, tough, determined pit-bull-hockey mom presented to the GOP convention was back with a jaw-jutting, happy-warrior vengeance.
Palin's fans say they like her specifically because she's an outsider, not part of the Washington club. When she flubs during interviews, they identify with that, too. "You see the lack of polish, we applaud it," one reader wrote.
If at one time women were considered heretical for swimming upstream against feminist orthodoxy, they now face condemnation for swimming downstream -- away from Sarah Palin.
Suddenly, the U.S. economy has edged out Iraq as the most consuming issue for American voters. Not so for Iraqis.
In a rational world, this presidential election would be between Hillary Clinton and John McCain, with their respective running mates Barack Obama and (maybe) Sarah Palin.
While the political class was focused on the meaning of pigs wearing lipstick, a few fortunate South Carolinians were riveted by the meaning of valor.