Word: hellos
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...campus of frazzled people. The casual, "Hello, how are you?" often elicits more than you may want to hear. "I have so much reading to catch up on. I can't believe it's midterms already...and I have a paper due tomorrow." Or maybe it's a roll of the eyes, accompanied by, "My roommates are driving me nuts. I can't believe how incompatible we all are." And there's the senior disease, "Uh...not so good. I'm having a crisis over what to do with the rest of my life...
...through the telephone handset in the normal way. The connection is O.K., except that every once in a while the Net swallows random syllables and even whole words. I guess if you had to make frequent calls to France, say, you could learn to live with it. "Hello, Watson," I say to my wife. "_es," she says, I think. "We need to return those pants," I say. There's a pause. "Not another _air of __ton-_ly __ousers!" she says, I think...
...message seemed innocuous enough. "Hello. I've discovered another javascript security hole," read Friday's Usenet post from "Mr. Nothing" (aka Dan Brumleve). By Monday, it had mutated into a full-blown security crisis for Netscape and everyone who owns its browsers. As Brumleve demonstrates on his web page, it is possible to download a short, 30-line javascript program that will snatch information from a Netscape user's hard drive. Specifically, the flaw allows web sites to scan your cache without setting a cookie -- in other words, make off with a list of all those places, naughty and nice...
...against this busy backdrop, this social whirlwind of a life, that the December visit that caused Monica so much anguish took place. Mondale was in town to cover the Kennedy Center honors, and remembers it like this: "I briefly stopped at the White House to say hello on my way to interview the honorees, as our families have been friends for decades. I have no knowledge of anything else that may have taken place that day. Ms. Lewinsky's speculation is baseless, and has absolutely no foundation in fact...
...earlier collections, but the aroma is now more a celebration of the male form. Woven into this body-love is a hint of bookish geekiness, as if G.I. Joe had been given Gomer Pyle's soul. Or as Bartlett describes it: "Think the U.P.S. man meets Paul Bowles, Hello Sailor meets Hello Kitty, the Army Corps meets Lilly Pulitzer...