Word: journalists
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...techno pop blasting all night from most DJs' turntables across Beirut, but the nationalist crooning of wartime stars like Fayrouz. Some might consider this bad taste in a city where massive bombs continue to go off, recently killing Lebanon's former Prime Minister and a prominent journalist. Yet the war is hot these days. A nightclub called B-018, tel: (961-1) 580 018, has seats fashioned like coffins that fold down to form a dance floor. T shirts for tourists boast, beirut: it's a blast. But nothing seems to match 1975's dedication to martial morbidness. Here...
...white French journalist took pictures at this year’s Panafest festival in Ghana, a black Ghanaian man stood behind him and chirped, “Excuse me, sir, but can you move? This event is for the black people.” I was shocked when I heard this statement. A group of Ghanaians, who pride themselves on Ghana’s reputation for hospitality, immediately chided their fellow countryman for his rude statement. He walked away in embarrassment, and almost every Ghanaian who heard the statement apologized to the French journalist...
...Darkness.” The country’s prime minister, Thaksin Shinawatra, is waging a ruthless war against drug traffickers, with innocent civilians and foreign tourists caught in the crossfire. Meanwhile, Mike tracks down his father’s onetime Holworthy Hall roommate, Christopher Dorr, a freelance journalist who has moved into a dense Bangkok shanty-town and who has become a modern-day version of Conrad’s sadistic Captain Kurtz...
...More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun-for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax-This won't hurt." HUNTER S. THOMPSON, American journalist and author, in a note written four days before he killed himself in February...
...journalist who?d never blogged-who?d never published directly on the Internet and preferred to put his words on paper, where they couldn?t be erased by power surges or turned into ampersands by computer worms-I knew in my heart that the future was passing me by. I also believed that I could catch up later, the way I had with TiVo and instant messaging. But then, just recently, the future dawned -before I was prepared for it, as usual. The writer Andrew Sullivan, whose work I admired but who I barely knew, called...