Time marches on.

I have to admit that this column is going to have few readers. For one thing, here is the only mention it will have of the name Jodi Arias. That’s it. Sorry.

Screening the film adaptation of George Orwell’s “1984” isn’t exactly the most festive way to celebrate one’s upcoming birthday, but after reading the Tribune’s “Nerdvana” column’s recommending it this coming Friday, I couldn’t help but reserve a seat.

About 15 years ago I had what I believed to be the solution to our incredibly poor record of electing government officials of — how do the appliance makers refer to it? — quality and reliability:

If you’ve ever wondered if people will ever learn to stop texting while driving, the answer is, yes, they will, but sadly it’s going to take some time. And it won’t be a law specifically against it that will ensure cooperation, but rather something that’s sometimes more powerful: social acceptance.

You could pick up some pretty good art for a decent price this weekend.

Across the East Valley this week, educators, school leaders, elected officials, family and friends expressed their sorrow upon hearing about the death of Eddie Basha, Jr.

It’s Easter Sunday, so please indulge me with a bit of a sermon, one you can take in a human context as well as a spiritual one.

By the time you read this, I hope to have been part of the preservation of a piece of Arizona history. As I write, I’m filled with pride, because whenever you get involved with history, you hope that someday, people yet unborn can learn from it.

LOS ANGELES -- I’m here in a nice getaway from too-early 90-degree temperatures back in the East Valley this weekend. Low 80s here.

We learned in school about the inventors such as Edison and Bell who parlayed their inventions into fortunes, of the great capitalists of the Gilded Age such as Rockefeller and Carnegie and Morgan who took great risks on their way to becoming titans of industry.

I am not a parent, which means that in addition to the many times I am envious of those who are, at times I am grateful not to be one.

My interface with Hollywood chiefly consists of driving each weekday underneath the Interstate 10 sign downtown saying “Los Angeles” near my exit, thinking that I should just keep going west, to take a long-delayed shot at pitching my screenplay.

This time, Oil Conglomerates and Petroleum Rich Nations, I’ve got your number. You know, the big two-foot tall ones in front of gas stations. You’ve tried to sneak up nasty price hikes on us before, literally by nickeling and diming. Well, I’m here to warn you, I’ve got you figured out. Yessiree. I am no longer going to be Mr. Nice Self-Serve Customer.

Right up front, it’s important to know that I’m not a contestant for the title of Mr. Totally Financially Prepared.

Careful, East Valley. With apologies to Marty McFly, that forming line many think is leading to recovery instead is into an economic time machine that’s once again taking us back to the future.

Another legislative session, another day for the nanny state. The list of people whom government officials think are incapable of running their own lives now includes state lottery winners.

An idea that has so far escaped our state’s politicians in the long and weary immigration debate has surfaced relatively early in the gun-violence debate: comprehensive reform.

We have all seen those strings of legal words in commercials set in type too small to read, even if you push the pause button and affix your eyeball directly to the TV screen.

I’m typing this very quietly. I don’t want my car to know I’m talking to you about it.

"What have you done? The year is gone."

So the brightly and oh, yes, neatly wrapped gifts are starting to accumulate under your tree, are they?

Not very long ago we used to grumble about new Arizonans, chiefly regarding our observation that there are just too darned many of them.

Ours is a diverse nation whose people have countless choices to make.