J.P. Devine channels his inner devil with a “love letter” to Donald Trump.
J.P. Devine
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Who’s going to play in Trump’s yard?
As the presidential election season rolls along, the kids are all trying to figure out if they like the popular boy, JP Devine writes.
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And yes, my mother had a pony
As Mother’s Day approaches, JP Devine reflects on his mother’s hard life and the small things that made it sparkle.
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Waiting for the ‘new and improved’ tragedy this fall
If everything old is new again and if there’s a hero, it means a tragedy is being written — and it’ll be interesting to see what happens with the GOP convention this summer, JP Devine writes.
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Forced back from clean Maine air to dragon’s breath of LA
Just when J.P. Devine was gearing up for the outdoors in the sweet healthy Maine air, he has to return to California, which just got an air-quality “F” from the American Lung Association, he writes.
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Going off the grid? Be careful what you wish for
When JP Devine went off the ‘Hollywood grid’ for a life in Maine, things could have been a lot worse, he writes.
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Hello, it’s Chelsea, asking for more money
An email sets off a flurry campaign contribution requests that are hard to refuse, J.P. Devine writes.
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A long ago Republican summer is remembered warmly
When JP Devine first met his wife’s GOP family and friends, he was pleasantly surprised, and even more so now in light of current events.
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Despite iPhone love, maybe it’s time to get back to basics
We could always find the landline, JP Devine writes, and no one ever suggests calling Debbie for a good time any more.
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What’s it like, when the saints come marching?
When someone like Mother Theresa gets the call, what’s the moment like? Or what’s it like for those who don’t? JP Devine speculates on it.