Word: hot
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Charles Ardai was born too late. He's a dotcom success story--founder and CEO of Juno--but his first love was pulp fiction: those seamy, seedy, hard-boiled paperbacks from the 1940s and '50s, the kind with a hot broad and a cold, stiff drink on the cover. Ardai, 36, missed the great age of pulp, so after Juno merged with a competitor in 2001 and he had time and money to burn, he founded his own press, Hard Case Crime. Now he makes 'em like they used...
...that John McCain has committed to turning up, he and Barack Obama will take the stage tonight with their rhetoric and demeanor set to a specific temperature. "Do you want a hot debate or a cold debate?" asks Stuart Stevens, a Republican media consultant, author and screenwriter who helped prep George W. Bush for his encounters with Al Gore in 2000. "You have to decide...
According to an unscientific sampling of political consultants who have prepared candidates for presidential debates in years past, McCain will probably come out hot, with killer one-liners spilling from his lips. "McCain needs a hot debate," says Scott Reed, who managed Bob Dole's 1996 presidential campaign. "He needs to pin Obama's ears back on not being ready to be President. A subtle message from the debate has to be that this guy's not ready for prime time...
...surge" of U.S. troops in Iraq has been an unqualified success. Obama has admitted as much already in recent interviews. But having to do it onstage with McCain would be the debate equivalent of eating crow in front of 80 million viewers. Other options for McCain to go "hot" on foreign policy: make news by attacking some aspect of the Bush Administration's record, either its early strategy in Iraq or its high-handed refusal to take climate change seriously. Alternately, he could get into a contest with Obama over who has the mettle to force Iran to abandon...
...were undoubtedly painfully awkward campers in childhood, and why any such camper would virtually pine for a return to the contrived, queasy confines of any camp-like situation beguiles me. Flash back to the summer of 1998. Imagine Peter, my twenty-something camp counselor, struggling to silence a hot room full of rowdy pre-teens. Silently sitting in the corner, all I could think about, however, was how nothing—not even Counselor Peter’s inappropriately placed goatee—was ever going to convince me that mixing vinegar, yellow food coloring, and rocks could make...