Word: birthdaying
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...they respond. It's one thing for a theater full of black-tied swells to applaud George Clooney or Brad Pitt. It's quite another for 1,200 Madness minions to sing Happy Birthday to Italian horror auteur Dario Argento, as they did this year. Or, in 2005, to rise and cheer for Hong Kong martial-arts star Sammo Hung. When he strode onstage the people at the Ryerson practically levitated. Ambitiously titled, Midnight Madness is now an annual ritual that always lives up to its name...
...sign a letter to U.N. Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon, calling for the U.N. to pressure the Burmese regime to release Suu Kyi. The following month, Mrs. Bush wrote an op-ed piece in the Wall Street Journal, lamenting the fact that Suu Kyi was spending her 62nd birthday while under house arrest. She called Ban again last week, to voice her concern over the Burmese military's latest crackdown on protests against price hikes. The First Lady spoke to TIME's Hannah Beech about the latest anti-regime protests in Burma. Excerpts...
...faithful still think he's in seclusion, holding out for a second coming - quickly became more valuable as a memory than he ever was as a singer or movie star or Vegas action figure or living proof of the marketability of youthful rebellion. Every year on his birthday (Jan. 8) and death date, new packages of his old music and movies are snapped up as instant relics by his venerable fans, even as they attract kids who hadn't been born when he was just the King on earth...
...Growing up in the '60s, I camped, canoed and played basketball with my dad. I helped him (or tried to) roof the garage, insulate the attic and tile the kitchen floor. He gave me a bow-and-arrow set for my ninth birthday, and we went to the archery range together so I could practice. He read to all his children, checked our homework and expected us to do well in school. When Dad was at work, I played cowboys, baseball, basketball and climbed trees with the neighborhood kids. I rode my bike to the swimming hole and swung from...
Growing up in the 60's, I camped, canoed and played basketball with my dad. I helped him (or tried to help him) roof the garage, insulate the attic and tile the kitchen floor. He gave me a bow-and-arrow set for my ninth birthday, and we went to the archery range together so I could practice. He read to all his children, checked our homework and expected us to do well in school. When Dad was at work, I played cowboys, baseball, basketball and climbed trees with the neighborhood children. I rode my bike to the swimming hole...