Word: fleshings
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...writes that for the man of faith, "no greater honor exists than for a man to die for his convictions." Several paragraphs later he sums up the nature of the cynic, who, without the aid of faith, is "reduced to a mere animal groping after the desires of the flesh." What we have here is animality versus spirituality. Whitman's reductionism is unfair to both faith and cynicism...
...might remember that Jesus was spirit made flesh, one might emphasize, contrary to Whitman, His incarnation over His sacrifice. To speak on Peninsula's own terms, one might advise Whitman that it is better to live a Christ-like life than to die for a cause. Religion is not nearly so far off from earthly cynicism as Whitman would have us believe...
...that old pain. Outdated special-effects shots have been tidied up. (Lucas complains in particular about a "fuzzy Vaseline blob" beneath Luke Skywalker's land speeder.) Computer-generated creatures (Rontos and Jawas and such) were added to the backgrounds of previously static scenes. Extra spaceships with keener moves now flesh out some of the climactic battle scenes. A scene has been restored between Han Solo and the reptilian loan shark Jabba the Hutt that was discarded when Lucas couldn't figure out a satisfactory way to concoct Jabba (he finally appeared as a mammoth rubbery puppet in Return...
...Bacchus. In "Untitled #282," she lies before us in an outlandish, semi-transparent gauze dress by one of Madonna's favorite designers, Jean-Paul Gaultier. Her legs are slightly spread, but the voyeuristic gratification usually afforded us by such images is denied by our recognition of the opaque, flesh-toned tights which ascend from a seam at Sherman's toes. Here, Sherman subverts the salacious gaze that Ritts' photographs of naked male or female models never fail to satisfy...
Campaspe is homelier than Tiepolo's "official" women, who appear in paintings like Time Uncovering Truth, c. 1743. These, one is inclined to think, are among the first "modern" beauties in painting. Not wardrobes of flesh like Rubens' goddesses, not pneumatic dolls like Boucher's nymphs, they are (relatively) slender, blond to redhead, and have the minxy arrogance and perfectly toned skin of runway models, inaccessible, gazing down from their nests of vapor in the blue-rinsed sky above. In Tiepolo, the women always seem to be running the show; his emblematic heroes like Rinaldo, by comparison, look almost effeminate...