By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  When Ventura County Sheriff’s Sgt. Ron Helus went into the Borderline Bar and Grill on that fateful night Nov. 7, he was interested in just

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  The man was behaving erratically. In the moment, it was anybody’s guess as to what was causing his strange behavior. Drugs? Mental illness?  Death wish?

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  Sometimes, the left is a lot smarter than the right. Take, for example, the current broadly accepted meaning of the word, “Progressive.” It’s a powerful

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  I was editing a satirical column by John Boston this past week, and it occurred to me that his topic — the selection of a

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  Climbing between two cars of a parked freight train in Norman, Oklahoma, I had two thoughts: One: “This has not been a typical weekend.” And,

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  It’s surreal when the gibbons start singing in Bouquet Canyon. One of our reporters describes it as both awesome and terrifying.  I don’t know exactly

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  I’ll never forget that Zonta roast in 1997. The Signal was the roast-ee for the big annual fundraiser, and Zonta’s roasters took full aim at

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  It was move-in day at Washington State University, and my daughter’s dorm room looked like a crime scene.  Blood, spattered on the wall. In the

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  My good buddy John Boston and I go way back. Decades back. We’re both award-winning columnists, although I haven’t entered a column writing contest in

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  As a part-time college journalism instructor for the past 20-plus years, one of my all-time favorite students was a bright and talented young man, who

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  Confession time. A few months back, I wrote a column lamenting the fact that my daily (unsweetened) iced tea from the Circle K near my

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  Rep. Katie Hill dropped by The Signal’s offices the other day, and it was an enjoyable conversation. She was forthcoming, engaging, frank and witty.  And,

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  I’ll never forget the day Randy Wicks died. It was 1996. My wife and I were on a camping trip to the Santa Barbara wine

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  Sitting in Central Park last Saturday, listening to live country music performed by some of the genre’s most current artists, I experienced an eerie reminder

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  When our son Luc was little, just learning to play hockey, my wife and I told him there was one thing most important about hockey:

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  Press me into answering the question, “What’s your favorite song?” and there’s always been a solid chance that I’d say it was “Don’t Stop Believin’”

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  I’m not often at a loss for words. But that’s where I was a couple of weeks ago, when my mom texted me at work

One of the most haunting statements came from a dear friend. Barb was an opera singer. She noted: “We either marry, or give birth to, our needles.” Ouch. Amen. Boy

By Tim Whyte Signal Editor  About eight or nine years ago, I served as the team manager of my son’s youth hockey team. By then, I was beyond the “dad