Word: gash
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...want to label me," says Lincoln, "anarchist is as close as you're going to come." Lincoln is a lanky 19-year-old Texan who came to Seattle to protest "one-world government" and will leave sporting a nom de guerre, a nasty forehead gash courtesy of a tear-gas canister, and a green bandanna for meeting the press. His beliefs mirror a standard anarchist line: Autonomous government, yes. Private property, no. Would he commit acts of violence to further them? In some cases, Lincoln allows...
Even more ominous for those on the ground, however, was its demonic persistence. The average tornado logs mere minutes on the ground. The Chickasha twister settled in like a plow, ripping an 80-mile gash northeast through a corner of Oklahoma City and several suburbs over an endless four hours. Thousands of Oklahomans heard the shriek of the warning sirens gradually overwhelmed by a sound variously described as like a locomotive, or a screaming jet engine, or nothing on Earth. The worst fear, said Moore resident Delee MacAlister, "is the terror of knowing you are going to die. We prayed...
...could forget such wonderful characters like Dentist Dan, who "filks my cavakies/Wid choclut cangy...The graygest nentis in the lan." Or poor Peggy Ann McKay (sick with the measles, mumps, a gash, a rash and purple bumps), Backwards Bill (who puts on his underwear over his clothes) and Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout (who never had a playmate because she never took the garbage...
These are things, true things all, that we try to impress on our children, and ourselves, as we struggle to come to terms with the slaughter in Colorado and the vivid gash it has left in our psyche. We know that the Internet couldn't possibly be the source of the demons that drove the two killers. We want our kids to use the Net; we know that this technological wonder, every bit as revolutionary as the light bulb or the telephone, is going to shape all our lives in the century ahead...
...tour to promote her unforgettable To Bring You My Love album, the reclusive English songstress revamped herself in an almost literal way. Suddenly she became a sort of hybrid of Tammy Fae Baker and Siouxsie Sioux, her eyes swathed in colors more appropriate to tropical fish, her red gash of a mouth hissing out the stories of weary paramours and suffering Magdalenes, then growling out feverish invocations that "Yeah I'm ready to meet ze monsta tonight...