Word: chatters
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It’s 3:07 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon, and Sever 106 is filled with the lively chatter of students in English 192p: “Postmodern Literature.” Glenda R. Carpio, associate professor of African and African American Studies and of English, is dressed in a fitted black suit with red embroidery, her dark curls swept into a ponytail. She begins to speak, but her words are devoured by the noise. Seconds later, she picks up her pace and volume, and silence falls over the room—it’s clear that...
...floor, and grey concrete basement, looks like a mausoleum for the 1970s. But it was full of life three weeks ago, when a group of about 60 people—with plenty of tattoos, scruffy facial hair, and bobbed haircuts between them—milled about in easy, friendly chatter...
With all due respect, I spent 40 years interacting with these so-called students—an aspect of the university I have never understood. Now, in my golden years, I ask nothing more than to relax without the incessant chatter of young ’uns, brimming with energy for no explicable reason. They will arrive, seeking pleasure on a Saturday night, and might even take sherry to the point of wooziness: for shame! They will then slur their speech and stumble about in an unrefined manner. An utter disgrace to this university! These troublemakers remain out until...
...everything related to abusive interrogations can be declassified, but nonetheless should be looked at by a blue-ribbon presidential commission. For instance, in an Aug. 1, 2002 memo there is a passing reference to "chatter" that suggests there's about to be another 9/11, the underlying message to Justice being that unless it approves the abusive interrogation techniques, the deaths of thousands of Americans will be on its head. Someone objective needs to take a close look at the exact wording of the "chatter", and tell the President whether there really was an imminent threat. The complete raw interrogation reports...
...What do you want?”“I don’t know.”“Do you want some milk?”“OK.”The chatter on the TV was overshadowed by the volume of my Mom’s silence.“Is there something wrong, Mom?”“No, everything’s fine.”Again, the silence was too powerful.“I have to find a new job, that?...