Word: ironical
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...Berdymukhammedov wins, will he be able to maintain Niyazov's iron grip? Probably not to the same degree Niyazov did. Although members of the democratic opposition are jailed at home and badly divided abroad, a coil of Islamic radicalism threatens to unwind as a natural reaction to the years of harsh suppression...
...feel as though my balls have been ripped off. And I like it. Black Snake Moan Celluloid Gold This is two minutes and twenty five seconds of pure, hard-core, home-cooked, old, weird Americana. An overweight Samuel L. Jackson, a severely beaten Christina Ricci, and a looooong iron chain. There is absolutely no precedent for this trailer. It doesn’t fit any trailer paradigm you’ve ever seen. It doesn’t show any of its cards, vis a vis who’s going to be the villain and who?...
...delicious.The closest thing Harvard students have to a Commie clubhouse until the revolution comes is the Dudley Co-op, a former Red hotbed that still boasts a decidedly left-leaning group of residents, though the current crowd is more into free love and vegetarian cuisine than jackboots and iron fists. There’s also the used clothing store Proletariat in The Garage, presumably so named because of its secret plans to re-distribute stinky $50 Member’s Only nylon jackets from each according to his ability, and to distribute them to each according to his need. That...
...whitewashed walls were yellow with age and streaked with dust. The single naked bulb was coated with grime and extremely dim. Patches of the cement floor were black with dampness. A strong musty smell pervaded the air. I hastened to open the only small window, with its rust-pitted iron bars. When I succeeded in pulling the knob and the window swung open, flakes of peeling paint as well as a shower of dust fell to the floor. The only furniture in the room was three narrow beds of rough wooden planks, one against the wall, the other two stacked...
...passed; my fever got so high that I no longer felt the cold in the cell. The guard told me to stay in bed. I slept most of the time, in a state of semiconsciousness, with fantastic dreams of myself floating in and out of the cell through the iron-barred window as if I were an ethereal spirit. One morning the young man came back and said, ''You don't have hepatitis. It's probably TB. A lot of prisoners have TB. You may go to the hospital to have a fluoroscope.'' The waiting room of the prison hospital...