Word: blande
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...vicious, scurrilous things said about our mayor, this is the worst. The mayor does not "like" anyone. He simply recognizes the Yankee owner as a trustworthy and fair-minded sports executive whose goal is to exchange the musty old Yankee Stadium that New Yorkers find so sterile and bland for a sparkling modern entertainment venue in a more affluent district, one closer to theme restaurants and uninfested by rude squeegee...
Buzzed from java, but hate the bland taste of decaf? One day a full-flavored brew minus the caffeine could fill your mug. Scientists have figured out how to grow coffee plants that appear to lack the "caffeine gene." The leaves have negligible caffeine. Researchers will know about the beans when the plants mature in about two years...
...because his image is, above all else, personality-less. There are many kinder ways to put this--he's a gentleman; he's classy; he has old-world values; he's modest; he has a blue-collar work ethic; he's quintessentially American--but the truth is, he's bland. Think about all the interviews you've seen and the stories you've read. (And like it or not, you have. He's been mentioned in, on average, 100 newspaper articles a day.) Can you describe his personality? His politics? His sense of humor? His likes or dislikes? Bitter sitcom...
...composition of The Waste Land; and in a 1915 letter to Conrad Aiken, Eliot had said, "The War suffocates me." Whether or not Eliot had written down the Armageddon of the West, he had showed up the lightweight poetry dominating American magazines. Nothing could have been further from either bland escapism or Imagist stylization than the music-hall syncopation ("O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag") and the pub vulgarity ("What you get married for if you don't want children") of The Waste Land. Eliot's poem went off like a bomb in a genteel drawing-room...
...bland-out all across the bandwidth, a kind of musical hangover from the Eisenhower era. Rock 'n' roll had erupted dead in the heart of Ike's easeful America. In the Kennedy years, when the world started to shake and rattle, the music suddenly turned as thick and sweet as a malted. Jazz had the power, but jazz was for grownups, and its impact was largely instrumental. Anyone who wanted to listen to a song, and take something away from it that would last a little longer than a good-night kiss, turned on to folk...