Word: dawns
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...Incoming production director William K Weaver ‘98-’03 indulged in another nude circumnavigation of the Quad: his ass cheeks were spotted flapping in the early-dawn wind on Saturday. “Nothing cleanses my system and brings balance to my nutsack like a few bare-assed laps when the morning dew is fresh,” Weaver exulted. Incoming associate editor Mira F. Leonard ‘04, heading off to an appointment with a therapist she’d been seeing since her last naked Weaver sighting, actually collided with the cardio...
...other Crimson drones to get the job done. From shooting hoards of photos, to creating pages of design, FM relies on our “heroes” to reduce the pain and post-midnight madness that are our Tuesday nights. No matter what, a newsie stays up until dawn proofing the magazine. A business executive cold-calls schmultzy establishments to solicit ads. A design guru curses at the computer as InDesign crashes for the tenth time. And photo folks walk the streets, taking shots of boys in tie-dye, men in capes and bloody toenails in jars. FM?...
...paper out before the wee hours of the morning, but he also had the “fuckin’ albatross around his neck” (one of his choicest descriptions of the Mag) which guaranteed that he wouldn’t leave the building until dawn. I remember standing on the filthy and entirely precarious landing at the top of the stairs pasting up the Mag and being accosted by Pat as he walked down the steps toward his shop in the basement, “Shit, it’s Kramnick, don’t tell me it?...
Pasadena's Rose Bowl looked like a second-hand auto park. In the chill dawn, 140 battered cars and sagging trucks huddled, piled high with furniture, bundles, gardening tools. At 6:30 a.m. they chuffed and spluttered, wheeled into line, and started rolling. Led by a goggled policeman on a motorcycle, a jeep and three command cars full of newsmen, they headed for the dark, towering mountains to the east. Thus, last week, the first compulsory migration in U.S. history set out for Manzanar, in California's desolate Owens Valley. In the cavalcade were some 300 Japanese aliens and Nisei...
...history has proved, the dust never quite settles in Afghanistan. At night, the streets of Mazar aren't exactly safe; residents lock themselves in high-walled homes and the pop and crack of gunfire sounds across the city until dawn. Even in daytime, people tend to remain within their neighborhoods, which are lumped into three zones under the control of Dostum, Atta or Mohaqiq. The Hazaras catch most of the blame for the city's violence. In fact, they have most cause for revenge: when the Taliban took the city in 1998 they singled out Hazaras...