Word: fleshings
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...Presidential Daily Brief. The brief--or PDB, in Langley-speak--is the CIA's chance to mainline its priorities into the President's thinking. Each day, the PDB is winnowed to a few pages; when the President is in Washington, one of two "briefers"--agency up-and-comers who flesh out the written text--gets to work at 2 a.m. to bone up on background material. The brief itself is delivered at 8 a.m. in front of the President's national-security team. (Sometimes CIA Director George Tenet delivers it himself.) One briefer had moved to Texas for the vacation...
...legacy of colonialism dealt Africa a brutal hand. First came the European slave-traders. Then when the flesh trade went out of fashion, the “civilizing mission” began. The colonizers forced complex societies into stilted political units and played clans off against each other, paving the way for the ethnic implosion of the 1990s. When the Europeans finally “decolonized” in the 1950s and 1960s, they left in charge a group of European-educated elites who cared little for the people. The color of the yoke changed, but not much else?...
...most homoerotic of widely available modern cultures," writes Mark Jordan, a professor of religion at Emory University, in his book The Silence of Sodom. He is referring to the shared residency of unmarried men and the Eucharistic ritual "in which an all-male clergy sacrifices male flesh before images of God as an almost naked...
...Burlesque does revolve around the baring of flesh, which makes for delicious ironies in places like Manhattan, where stripping is more strictly regulated than theater. Local legislation forced Show World, a fort-size Times Square adult entertainment palace, to devote at least 60% of its space to nonlewd entertainment, and the venue posted a NO LIVE GIRLS sign outside the building. But the Va Va Voom Room held court on one of its floors for six months in 2000. "We were probably more nude than the nude shows they had there," says Valentine. "There were live girls...
Even with knives as sharp as razors, it takes time to skin a man. After 35 minutes, flesh was hanging from Ram Mani Jnawali's shoulders and cuts crisscrossed his legs, ribs, arms, hands, ears and chin. His legs were shattered at the shins, broken stumps marking where the bones had been smashed across the steps of his house. But he was still breathing. And yet his teenage tormentors kept questioning him. "Why don't you leave the Congress party?" screamed one interrogator. "How much do you earn? Where are your daughters?" But the 54-year-old, whose only offense...