Word: hards
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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Young Blankfein thrived. He stayed out of trouble by not getting off the school bus when he saw things happening that made him uncomfortable. He studied hard. He was the valedictorian of his 1971 graduating class at the predominantly black Thomas Jefferson High School. At 16, he applied to Harvard, solely because Harvard had gone to the school to recruit. Using a combination of financial aid and scholarships, he graduated in 1975. Ben Bernanke was in his class. In the class-of-'75 yearbook, Bernanke was pictured near Blankfein, who was wearing a fashionable houndstooth blazer with groovy wide lapels...
Blankfein also developed some pretty bad habits. Once upon a time, he smoked two to three packs of cigarettes a day. He was overweight. He often dressed inappropriately or ostentatiously. And he had a love of gambling in Las Vegas. (See hard times hitting Las Vegas...
Instead of sorting through stacks of forms, I'll set my death panel behind huge wooden desks in a big empty room like the audition scene in Flashdance. I know this will make it hard for the sickest people to attend, and that will make my first cut much easier. I will green-light medical intervention on four criteria: cost, likelihood of success, years of life saved and a person's awesomeness. For example, we'd all shell out to keep Justin Timberlake going for another 50 years, but we probably wouldn't kick in much to spot Michael Vick...
Some exiled Burmese dissidents have criticized Webb for lending legitimacy to the generals. But Webb did, at least, extract one concession from the junta. When the Senator's plane left Burma on Aug. 16, it carried an extra occupant: John Yettaw, the American sentenced to seven years' imprisonment with hard labor for his midnight swim to Suu Kyi's home. His saga--that of a middle-aged Mormon from Missouri who used homemade flippers to visit the world's most famous political prisoner--is stranger than any fiction, even that of Senator Jim Webb...
...rich fantasy life is important, but a fantasy life that drains your riches is, in this particular economy, perhaps not the greatest idea. And yet there you are - if you count yourself among the millions of Americans who indulge in fantasy football - spending your hard-earned money and precious time pretending to be an NFL general manager. Tom Brady is not really on your team, my sweet - dare I say deluded? - friend. Your draft decisions don't affect reality. They only, sadly, bore your nonfantasy friends...