Word: finely
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...problem is that I can't rub this in, because she won't acknowledge it. I forward her every article about the car's problems, but she keeps saying, "It's fine!" as if this were some kind of Salem witch trial for liberals. Even though Toyota's website says to immediately remove the driver's-side floor mat because the accelerator can get stuck, she won't do it. In a car we drive our baby in. This is a woman who won't give our son nonorganic blueberries...
While many of the classes are still being fine-tuned after their first runs, the HDRB faculty have pushed to establish strong connections with their concentrators. “They really want to hit the ground running. I like this a lot because they really try to make sure we are taken care of,” says Daniel...
Confused? So was the journalist who unearthed the blunder on page 122 of Lévy's slim new treatise called On War in Philosophy. There, Lévy quotes the fine insights of a French writer named Jean-Baptiste Botul on the 18th-century German philosopher Immanuel Kant. But Botul, it turns out, is not a real person - he's a fictional character created five years ago by Frédéric Pagès, a journalist at the French satirical weekly Le Canard Enchaîné. Using Botul as a pseudonym, Pagès published...
...direct threat to boaters. When startled, the fish launch themselves out of the water, turning into 40-lb. (18 kg) projectiles that could easily smash an unwary fisherman's nose. It's enough to turn a fishing trip into something worthy of the X Games, which may be fine for the extreme-angling participants of the wild Redneck Fishing Tournament in Illinois, where silver carp are the target and black eyes sustained from flying fish are a badge of honor. But your average day-tripping sportsman on Lake Michigan might not appreciate an airborne carp smacking him in the kisser...
When I was applying to colleges, I started out by listing the cities that I was willing to live in and narrowing my search from there. Yet here I am, two and a half years later, and while I’ve been to the Museum of Fine Arts more times than I can count and I’ve gazed at the windows of the art galleries on Beacon Street, I still can’t really say I know Boston. It was only after I spent the past semester in Paris over just four months, visiting dozens...