Word: barkely
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...After Mass, my parents and I often ate breakfast at our local diner, the Bark River Café. There, I would often share a booth with my two closest friends, as their parents had the same ritual of going to the café after church. As the adults sat at another table and talked about the upcoming high school boys’ basketball game, my friends and I ate chicken fingers and giggled over our elementary school crushes...
...bodyguards. “There were all sorts of things [at the temple] that seem taken straight from legend,” said David J. Henderson ’07. “There were several trees, probably a few hundred years old, with holes burrowed into the bark. These holes were from the monks over the years pushing and twisting their fingers into the bark of the tree in order to strengthen their fingers.” That sight certainly beats the bottom of yet another bottle of Cuervo...
Olmert's elegant and noiseless assumption of power last week was a singularly un-Israeli sort of act: a dog that didn't bark in a prohibitively raucous canine nation. His public gestures were tasteful. He refused to sit in Sharon's seat at the first Cabinet meeting or use Sharon's office. He gave no interviews, a real departure for a politician who had served as the Prime Minister's talk-radio pit bull. He traded his famously dreadful orange ties for blue and black stripes. He was not seen smoking one of his beloved cigars. He looked very...
...declaration of the war between the sexes. On his third try, Gaudio found a narrative use for the tramp-tramp-tramp beat of the first two songs: I'm gonna march right out of your heart. Valli's falsetto croons a pretty, otherworldly air while the other Seasons bark out, "Walk! Walk! Walk! Walk!" In three series of this long march (played at the beginning, middle and end, and expending more than half of the 2 minute, 15 second song), the Seasons announce themselves as the vanishing lovelorn, the French Foreign Legion of Essex County...
...first day of preseason practice is always an eye-opener for the freshmen on the Harvard football team. In full pads, in the muggy Massachusetts heat, the rookies get a crash course in college ball. The pace is vastly swifter than in high school. Coaches bark out rapid-fire orders. The drills are complex. The running never stops...