Word: houres
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...prints that helped forge that mutual infatuation have long been out of sight. For decades they graced the walls of Monet's home at Giverny, an hour outside of Paris. In the years after his death in 1926, the delicate, light-sensitive engravings were largely replaced with copies. Now the originals can be seen again, until Feb. 25, in "Claude Monet's Japanese Prints" at Paris' Marmottan Monet Museum...
What is the role of the state in all this? The problem in France is that once you make an error it becomes a taboo. The wealth tax was a mistake, but you can't touch it in case it provokes negative reactions. The 35-hour workweek was also an error, but don't touch it. The right doesn't dare go back on decisions taken by the left...
...Pelosi's first challenge is similar to Ford's, and may provide the same kind of disappointment: To succeed, she needs to provide a solid counterpoint to the corruption and arrogance that doomed the G.O.P. Yet the Democrats' "100-hour agenda" already entails suspending the gauzy promise of bipartisan civility that moderate Democrats ran on. Rather, the Democrats will use House rules to prohibit opposition measures - the exact sort of "tyranny of the majority" that the former minority party has been railing against for years. Whatever the stage set (tea or Mass), the week ahead will likely be less...
...Times Square visitors, the "ride" on New Year's Eve is about the same length - the shouting, singing and hugging at midnight - but it's preceded by eight or more hours of standing in the cold in one of those pens. So the pre-show comprises live and taped music acts and, at the top of each hour from 7 p.m. on, a countdown to zero second and a feed from whatever region (London, England; Ponta Verde, Brazil) is celebrating its midnight moment. That's when Treb's troops would fling into action, unfurling, say, the Mylar strips that blanketed...
...Every hour or so, I went from my station in the Renaissance Hotel on 47th Street to walk among the masses. The police officers acted the role of genial Joes and Janes, whose main functions were to snap pictures of tourists on request and to say, at a hundred checkpoints, "You can't go there." But we, the CDEs, could go almost anywhere. A flash of our red plastic badges with the magic word CONFETTI, and sawhorses magically parted, as if we had backstage and dressing room passes at a Springsteen concert. It was a class society, and we were...