Word: blackly
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...futures market is like a perpetual roulette wheel: red or black, up or down ... in the end, you're just betting on the direction of prices. And just as in roulette, the house will hold an advantage. In this case the house effectively consists of big players like Goldman Sachs who own supercomputers that can easily stay one step ahead of your moves. Also, since you're not a big player the action is going to come at a steep cost. You'll pay more in exchange fees and commissions than the big boys, and get less profitable prices, buying...
...high (1.5 m) electronic news ticker, installed under President George W. Bush at a low point in diplomatic relations, from the windows of the American mission in Havana. The sign, used to annoy Cuban officials with pro-democracy messages, had been blocked by Fidel Castro with massive black flags. According to American University professor Robert A. Pastor, the act of goodwill "has permitted both sides to act like mature adults...
...since James Baldwin has a black gay writer achieved the success of E. Lynn Harris. While exploring the boundaries and taboos of sexuality, Harris--who died on July 23 at 54--turned the black community and the literary world upside down, with 10 consecutive New York Times best sellers and more than 4 million copies of his work in print. Unlike Baldwin, Harris wrote for the masses, introducing readers to a fabulous world teeming with prosperous but morally conflicted black characters...
Born Everette Lynn Harris in Flint, Mich., he quit his job at IBM in his mid-30s and sold his first novel, Invisible Life, out of the trunk of his car to beauty salons and bookstores. A source of inspiration for black gay men, his once forbidden stories about their relationships caught on with female fans: for years, it was virtually impossible to ride the subway in New York City, Washington or Atlanta without coming across a black woman reading one of his novels...
...YORK, N.Y. — Every time I meet B, a rising high school senior in my writing class at Henry Street Settlement on the Lower East Side, he makes me laugh. He delivers his jokes with a screwball exuberance that puts him in the tradition of zany black comics Chris Tucker, Chris Rock, and Dave Chappelle. At first, I couldn't return the warmth, and glanced at him awkwardly as he offered his hand for—I didn't know what. Perhaps I felt more at home thinking about sentence structures than pounding and slapping hands with street...