Word: bricked
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...journalists like me see authors like Ban Breathnach wearing a KICK ME sign. When I come to visit, she takes her own advice and snatches a small pleasure out of a potentially prickly situation: she fixes us iced tea and scones. Sitting in the living room of her comfortable brick house in a middle-class Washington suburb without a touch of wretched excess from her newfound wealth, she readily agrees to show me where she writes her first drafts, even though it's in bed. And anticipating my next line of questioning, she offers that indeed money does make some...
...sprayed. Actually there were five presses over the century of the Free Press, but in most minds they are all one, each rising out of the one before. My companion and teacher was No. 3, a flatbed machine of such weight and exuberant horsepower that it ultimately cracked the brick walls of the building. On stifling summer nights in the Depression and the war years, with all the windows open, the thudding of that press could be heard up and down the alleys and street. The people would take off their aprons or stuff the day's receipts...
After jamming the remaining sweaters in boxes, dragging down the last bag of trash that had accumulated over the past year, I fled; I fled from the constant gray drizzle, the looming brick and threatening deadlines that define Harvard to the palm trees, cloudless skies and pink stucco that are La-La Land, Los Angeles, home. A compilation of luck and lack of planning landed me a job as a production assistant in the business Los Angeles is renowned for worldwide--the movie...
...sleeping aid. But away from the staged events and stale analysis lay a hurly-burly American Oz of pig farmers, profane tiremakers and pundits with pitchforks. Covering the campaign for the New Republic, journalist Michael Lewis was smart enough to leave the pack and take that yellow brick road, turning in dispatches that were fresh, hilarious must-reads. The same is true for Trail Fever: Spin Doctors, Rented Strangers, Thumb Wrestlers, Toe Suckers, Grizzly Bears, and Other Creatures on the Road to the White House (Knopf; 299 pages; $25), a compilation of those reports...
This community of 43,000 residents planted its German roots in the cornfields east of St. Louis, Mo., more than a century ago, and today wears its heritage from storefront to storefront: Krupp Florist, Schnuck's Grocery, Dueker Chiropractic. In this tidy community of Moose lodges and brick churches, even the gas stations are nicely landscaped. But look closer, and gambling seems to have sneaked in everywhere--and not just because the riverboat casino of East St. Louis is docked 14 miles away. The gambling rage has also come through the video-poker machines in the local taverns, bowling alleys...