Word: breaded
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...communist country has never been easy, and these days Cuba is a more difficult assignment than ever. Most journalists do the prescribed, unenlightening rounds of officialdom in Havana, sneak off to see a few dissidents, then interview cab drivers or disgruntled locals in food lines. Honesty is like bread -- a commodity on rations. Oppenheimer, a Pulitzer-prizewinning correspondent for the Miami Herald, found a way around this difficulty: he carried letters from Cubans in Miami to relatives on the island, thus gaining their trust. As a result, he captures a truer, if sadder, portrait of Cuba today...
...doesn't bother me in the sense that I'm not surprised by it. This is the way the Republicans make a living in national politics, by destroying their opponents. That's their bread and butter. They don't care if they are hypocritical. They don't care if they are fair. They don't care if they're dealing with doctored evidence. They don't care anything about that. That's their deal. They are not interested in governing and changing. They are very interested in maintaining power. It worked for them in 1988, so they're going...
Lina is the only character who is truly free. Though all the men proposition her, she says she "would sooner be a clown and set bad examples of conduct for little children than take bread from the hand of a man." She rejects gowns and wears aviator's pants and boots--a loaded gesture in a play where one character refers to the social bond as corset that "supports the figure even though it does squeeze and deform...
...system and thus is barred from disability benefits and treatment at city hospitals. Moscow's few free canteens cannot feed him because they have already filled their quota of selected recipients. Pronin survives by collecting tin cans and bottles and cashing them in for a few rubles to buy bread. "I don't have to have butter," he says. "I live on bread, salt and water...
...neighborhood. Passing a megaphone back and forth, they snake through the streets, shaking their fists at apartments where, they claim, heroin traffickers live. "Drug dealers out! Out! Out!" they shout. For seven years, the barrio was besieged by addicts. "Our children couldn't go to buy a loaf of bread without having their coins stolen," said Maria Jose Fuentes, who was marching with her nine-year-old son. "Old ladies were ! attacked. Prostitutes were everywhere, and addicts walked around with needles in their arms." Last September, in what Malvarrosans call the mothers' revolution, the neighborhood rose up. Every night since...