Word: helling
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...gavel, Costello does a PowerPoint floor show with happy hands and a jerky delivery. You can never predict when Costello's number will switch from the piano of crisis to the forte of triumph. So an audience tends to ride out the bumps with him. "Where the bloody hell were you?" Costello shrieks, referring to an era of high indebtedness when Labor leader Kim Beazley was in charge of the nation's finances. Soon there'll be no tax on superannuation benefits taken at age 60, Costello brags. When the cheering stops, he cheekily claims success for his procreation mantra...
...will not grow any taller, he thinks, in this life or the next. If there is a next, an inner devil murmurs. What evidence beyond the Prophet's blazing and divinely inspired words proves that there is a next? Where would it be hidden? Who would forever stoke Hell's boilers? What infinite source of energy would maintain opulent Eden, feeding its dark-eyed houris, swelling its heavy-hanging fruits, renewing the streams and splashing fountains in which God, as described in the ninth sura of the Qur'an, takes eternal good pleasure? What of the second law of thermodynamics...
...more frequent deployments make for wrenching choices. As the number of women on active duty reaches 200,000, of a total of 1.4 million, it means that more mothers are likely to discover what it really means to balance job and family under extreme circumstances. The commute is hell, the business trip can last six months or a year, and the note left for the baby sitter includes your power of attorney and your will. Those who have husbands staying behind while they deploy find themselves conducting a crash course in smooth braids and matching clothes. "I gotta...
...place]. The fact of the matter is, people are not going anywhere else. People ask me, "Why didn't you just shoot yourself?" I'm like, "What are you - nuts?" That scares the crap out of me. Pills were gross. I had already cut myself, it hurt like hell, and I hated seeing the blood...
...song builds to a massive crescendo under lyrics ("It's too late to make it right/ I probably wouldn't if I could/ 'Cause I'm mad as hell/ Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should") that are explicitly clear. Those who loathe the Dixie Chicks will never get to the end, while those who love them will listen once, say Yeah! and probably not need to go back. It works better as a referendum than as a pop song, but as Robison says, "We wrote it for ourselves, for therapy. Whether...