Word: ests
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Even when T.M.U. teaches a "dead and completely useless language," as it does in Roman Studies 25, it does so in a way that will assist the modern student. Thus, the matriculator at T.M.U. learns how to say travellers checks in Latin and ask, "Ubi est Americanus Expressus...
...restaurant called Huddle. "Lady," snarls the gas-station owner, "don't you ever clean your headlights with a squeegee. Stuff gets in it, and the next guy will scratch his windshield." At another stop, 200 miles farther along on the fast-food chain, a hopeful French tourist inquires, "Ou est la salade?" Cherie, you are in the land of American fried here. No salad, no apples, no milk. Just mysterious bundles from some hellish central kitchen, lying sodden beneath the infra-red lamps...
Give it a break, Jeff. Protesters are not "like birds ... who like nothing more than to flock together," and who flit from issue to issue in search of the chic-est cause. Activists are thinking people who, for the most part, ascribe to a broad left-wing agenda. Their personal political concerns may range from union organizing, to feminism, to national self-determinism in the third world, to civil rights struggles here at home...
Caveat Emptor! L'etat, c'est moi! Don't it make your brown eyes blue! Not mine, certainly, but I confess to feeling a surge of indignation, all the same, at this fatuous manifestation of a meddling, bloated, neo-Johnsonian "Great" Societish welfare state Gorgon that I had long hoped would never rear its ugly head in the sartorially innocent groves of Eli academe...
Finally this got too depressing, so I decided to call an old friend, Rev. Brightside. The Rev was a Krishna during the '60s and then dropped out and made a bundle on mood rings. I met him during an EST session at the Ensalen Institute and we got to be pretty good friends before I was kicked out for parking illegally on a hugging workshop...