Word: dead
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...Oxbridge candidates,” they must face the reality of adulthood, while their flavorful, poetical English professor Mr. Hector fights to protect the boys’ playful youth.Ostensibly, Hector (Ilan J. Caplan ’10) parallels the Mr. Keating of “The Dead Poet’s Society.” But while Keating only provides literature, Hector offers illicit sexual encounters. His inability to distance himself emotionally enables “The History Boys” to dig deeper into the student-teacher relationship, divulging the unspoken sexual tensions that can develop when malleable adolescents...
...clarity. In recent days, the President has highlighted his long-term plans for education, energy independence and health care - all of which, he argues, are essential to the long-range vitality of the U.S. economy. But to borrow from Keynes again, in the long term, we'll be dead, and in the short term, the LIBOR rate - that esoteric measure of financial vigor - has been creeping in the wrong direction again. "The public really needs to know what he thinks is important," says a senior Democrat. "There's no prioritization...
...Japan's powerful bureaucrats, who had earned a reputation for brilliance in the 1980s, dithered for years. In the face of slumping demand and price deflation, they cut interest rates too slowly, delayed a fiscal stimulus and failed to restructure so-called zombie banks, whose bad loans made them dead in all but name...
...white boxes parked in California's almond orchards this time of year are easy to spot. Stacked in sets of four or six, they squat between dead-straight rows of trees awash in blossoms. (A walk through an almond orchard in early March is not unlike a stroll past a department-store perfume counter.) From afar, the boxes look as if they might provide a weary farmer a place to sit or store his tools. But get close enough under the right conditions--dry, above 55, no more than a light breeze--and you can hear...
...with everybody else. But I hadn’t actually sung the song for a year or two (or five...not since ’61?). And the more I tried to sing, the less I knew, and the sorer I got. All I could do was loll there, dead in the water like some windless sloop. But didn’t I have a right to these words? To get to sing them like everybody else?I looked right, past Daddy (warbling away), and saw the pew stuffed to its end. So I looked left. It was full...