Word: ghosting
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George Orwell famously described the international sporting fixtures of the mid-1940s as "war minus the shooting." Looking at the newspaper back pages six decades later, his ghost would probably diagnose not an exercise in disguised nationalism but a series of deceptions practiced on a credulous public. Never, it seems, has the annual summer sports extravaganza been so inflamed by scandal. An inquiry into match fixing in the Italian Serie A soccer league looks set to bring the enforced relegation of four leading clubs. A few hundred kilometers to the north, several much-fancied entrants in this year's Tour...
...irony of criticizing a book for its journalistic style in a newspaper column does not escape me. I only wish Reichl had studied how other journalists have successfully made the leap from 500 words to 50,000. Frank Rich (“Ghost Light”) and Thomas L. Friedman (“From Beirut to Jerusalem”), who are current columnists for the Times, immediately come to mind...
...Could Read My Mind,” a retooled Gordon Lightfoot song and the climax of the album. The lyrics describe how one might imagine a lover as beyond perfect, “just like an old-time movie ‘bout a ghost from a wishing well.” Where Lightfoot sang the lyrics with patent sarcasm, Cash treats them as an honest declaration: “you know that ghost is me,” he admits over a warm piano accompaniment, “and I will never be set free as long as there?...
...Interstates reduced the older highways to ghost roads: "Let's-Stop-Here-Daddy" gave way to "We-Can-Make-Los-Angeles-By-Tomorrow-Morning." The mom-and-pop businesses that squatted just off the blacktops disappeared, replaced by the more impersonal, neon-announced franchise businesses that often sat hundreds of yards from the Interstates. These new entrepreneurs succored road-weary travelers with a dependable uniformity in food and lodging...
...Confederate officer aboard the Shenandoah who witnessed the conflagration recalled "a scene never to be forgotten by any one who beheld it." As flames consumed them, the eight crewless vessels drifted like crazed, rudderless ghost-ships amid the ice-floes. "The red glare from the eight burning vessels shone far and wide over the drifting ice of those savage seas; the crackling of the fire as it made its devouring way through each doomed ship fell on the still air like upbraiding voices." Chaos reigned: "The sea was filled with boats driving hither and thither, with no hand to guide...