Word: cheaping
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...this situation isn't all bad. The dollar is now low enough to make the U.S. a cheap place in which to travel, do business and buy things. Americans visiting Europe or the U.K. know an expensive currency when they see one. New Yorkers returning from London say the prices there look almost the same as in New York, except they are quoted in British pounds, which are now worth more than $2 each. I learned of a delegation of wealthy Chinese entrepreneurs who on a recent visit to America insisted on going to discount malls to buy designer goods...
...though, there's certainly no shortage of buyer interest. Indonesian artists may not yet be selling in the hundreds of thousands of dollars-but that, say experts, is the point. "Now is the time to jump in," suggests Iskandar from Christie's. "Indonesian art is so cheap you can't lose on it." It's the kind of advice any collector loves to hear...
...more. Asia has not only repaired much of the damage but taken out insurance-perhaps too much insurance-against a similar accident. During the 1990s Asian countries borrowed and spent beyond their means, a spree fueled by economic liberalization, overvalued local currencies and a flood of cheap foreign investment. But liberalization was badly executed, with political cronies running roughshod over regulators. Companies and consumers borrowed too much, much of it in foreign currencies. When Thailand's central bank ran out of foreign exchange and had to let the baht plunge, other currencies fell as investors lost confidence. There...
...loved my country, not in a tacky way, but profoundly and permanently as a paladin of Freedom in a world of Tyranny. Which is the problem with abstractions, even those we think we hold dear. They are cheap and fleeting, “words words words” as Hamlet says. Or Nietzsche: “That for which we find words is already dead in our hearts.” Today, “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” sounds ugly to me in comparison to the eternal battlecry of the French Republic...
...however, by the very end of the night, find the old, gaudy patriotic spirit stirring within me, burbling about with all the cheap Heineken I had guzzled at an American bar’s Fourth of July extravaganza. I was disconcerted at first with all the loud, brutish American men in their polo shirts that could barely contain their oversized muscles, and the unelegant, embarrassingly drunk and skankily dressed American girls who squealed in a language I definitely could not understand. But as I got drunk, I came around to it all, and by the time the national anthem started...