Word: baldes
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...sweaty stampede out of the towers, the one frozen frame to give the horrors on the inside a face and a name. And suddenly everyone wanted a piece of him. There were 40 messages a day from reporters; well wishers sent checks, whiskey, prayers, cigars and a bald-eagle calendar. One particularly aggressive fan, "Judy C. from New Hampshire," wrote almost daily on stationery with pink hearts and drove all the way to New York City from Manchester just to see him in the flesh. Mike's father taped the photograph to his refrigerator next to a laminated postcard...
...also seemed all the more just. People who reject the death penalty, who teach their children not to use the word hate, who believe in balancing justice with mercy, who prize due process--people, in other words, unaccustomed to bloodlust--now watch the daisy cutters shave the White Mountains bald and see the smoke curl and await the news that the monster in the cave has claimed his last human sacrifice...
...Perhaps because his main character is a photographer who began a still-life series in 2017 by shooting "objects put together bald, like a visual list," Joshi's novel reads more like a photomontage than a narrative. He jump-shifts between the voice of an unidentified narrator and Bhatt; another account comes from diary entries of a young woman smitten with the photographer. These abrupt cuts require careful attention. They also add to Joshi's deeper theme of the complexity of connections in life: particularly, where the relationship between nation and family begins and ends...
...Johnny Mac was out there. Remember him? You know how all he does now is give his opinions on everything, so I guess he was outside telling everybody how all the guys - I guess he meant himself, too - are better dancers than Serena and Venus. Pathetic! An old grumpy bald guy, all angry that he can't get into the dance. Just trying to cause trouble. Yeah, I know - he was always trouble, but he used to be kinda cool, when it was him and Jimmy C. and that dreamboat Bjorn. So sad, now - a big Mr. Grumpus...
Moby is a 5-ft. 8-in., ghostly white, completely bald, born-again Christian, vegan rock star. Born Richard Melville Hall, he is the great-great-great-grandnephew of Herman Melville (thus the name). He shuns drugs and alcohol and devours soy milk. His singing voice is just decent, and his biggest success to date has been an album anchored by samples from Alan Lomax field recordings. It's safe to say that it required a certain amount of gumption for Moby to will himself into the rock-star pantheon. Even Joe Cocker had it easier...