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...articulates them have a robust manliness in David's voice. Rancor is the medicine that keeps Boris alive. It makes him the ideal foil for Melody's cheerful resilience (which Wood winningly captures) and gives him a tart appeal, even when he's condemning the universe as "this cruel, dog-eat-dog, pointless black chaos" and his own film audience as "Neanderthals"--or when he observes that "while a black man got into the White House, he still can't get a cab in New York." Like Molière, Allen and David know there are few spectacles droller than...
...Proposal isn't it - too predictable and schematic by half - but it indicates what a good Sandra Bullock film might be. She plays Margaret Tate, the top-dog editor at a Manhattan publishing company who's so hard, you could skate on her. Margaret routinely humiliates all her co-workers, especially her male assistant, Andrew Paxton (Ryan Reynolds), who stays in the awful job because he wants to be promoted to an editor's job. Fat chance. But now Margaret, a Canadian, is threatened with deportation unless she gets married to a U.S. citizen ... say, her male assistant. Strictly business...
Peterson led a six-week campaign on behalf of Agriculture Committee Democrats and some fiscally conservative, so-called Blue Dog Democrats - a bloc of 45 votes - against two provisions in the bill. Ending a turf war, Waxman - whose committee has jurisdiction over the Environmental Protection Agency - allowed the Agriculture Department, not the EPA, to oversee a potentially lucrative program to create technology to save energy for farmers (Peterson allowed that the Obama Administration could weigh in on the EPA's role in the issue, if any). And Waxman agreed to bar the EPA for five years from calculating how much...
...didn't even know it yet. Over the next 10 days, I smoked chickens, ducks, brisket, pheasant and, most delectable of all, ribs. I had lungs like a coal miner's but continued to smoke anything I could find. I almost threw my wife's little dog in there...
When chef Donald Berger opened his first restaurant in Hanoi six years ago, he chose the unlikely district of West Lake (or, in Vietnamese, Tay Ho). Except for rows of dog-meat restaurants, the area didn't offer much in the way of dining - certainly not of the international variety that foreign residents and travelers were starting to seek out. "There was nothing here," says Berger. "People said I was a moron." But today, West Lake is home to cafés, bars and high-end restaurants - among them top names that have relocated from the chic French Quarter...