Word: layerings
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...blend of gush and gusto that makes Bear Creek so successful is hard to match. Of the dwarf pine, one applicant writes, "A tree-mendous way to remember Christmas." Holmes and Stump groan. And groan again when confronted by "It's love at first bite"-about the nine-layer chocolate cake ($18.95 delivered...
Iran's military inertia is the result of an army desperately short on manpower, spare parts and ammunition. A whole layer of professional commanders, eliminated by Khomeini's revolution, is sorely missed. Moreover, say military analysts, the Iranians consistently squander what supplies they have. Notes Philippe Rondot, a French Middle East expert: "They shoot at everything, firing as many missiles and bullets as they have. It's like a military orgy...
THIS LATEST ALBUM from the author of "Changes" should convince even the most skeptical that Bowie is governed by more than just restlessness--that there is synthesis as well as contradiction in his progress. Scary Monsters miraculously harnesses the techniques Bowie picked up from Eno--how to layer musical textures, how to manipulate odd rhythms--to a murky vision of a world without order or hope. Bowie last peered into this world on Diamond Dogs, where more conventional music illustrated a post-apocalyptic desolation. Diamond Dogs was a desperate album, the kind you might not want to listen to unless...
...walls and ceilings in the Science Center so that they take in and retain less heat--may cause a stir. One suggestion calls for covering the glass surfaces with plywood and painting them black, a process that would cost almost as much as insulating the windows with a second layer of glass. Abernathy doubts that idea will ever come to fruition. "You could blow the building up too, and that would remedy it," he says...
...Waits' black '64 Thunderbird is parked in a used car lot, up against a graffiti-covered wall. That is, one imagines the T-Bird is black. Caked with an impenetrable layer of L.A. dirt, the broad-flanked sedan could be chartreuse for all anyone can tell. Inside floats a clutter of unmailed bills, unopened letters, wadded-up Kleenex, a portable AM radio (antenna broken), a cardboard box full of old, yellowing T-shirts, and a paperback wedged in the crevice where windshield meets dashboard. Its title, Invade My Privacy, is fading fast in the sun. The auto's left rear...