Word: meã
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...Harvard Glee Club, who led the group in a rendition of “This Land is Your Land.” The Westboro protesters answered with their own version of the song, which replaced the lyric “This land was made for you and me?? with “This land is headed straight to Hell...
...tracks later, the title “You Don’t Love Me?? holds out the promise of a bittersweet confection. But instead the song is playful, with handclaps and facile lyrics like “You say you like my eyes or just the way I giggle / sometimes you like the smell of me or how my stomach jiggles / but you don’t love me / that’s alright.” Most of the Oldham repertoire features unpredictable chord changes, but here the carnival atmosphere melts into stale poppy hooks, adorned...
...than the National University of Mexico during the sixties, when student protests against the government raged on campus, but filmmaker and producer Guita Schyfter appreciates the peaceful university experience. “I feel absolutely happy, delighted,” she says. “Probably, it has rejuvenated me??This is the first time in many years that I can dedicate myself completely to my new project.”Schyfter is the current Fundación México/Antonio Madero Visiting Fellow at the David Rockefeller Center for Latin American Studies (DRCLAS). Born to Ukrainian...
...myself, I thought. Maybe things could be bearable. Then came rooming assignments. Some sort of technology glitch must have occurred, for my roommate and I were given two adjacent cupboards under the pretense of a double. And the view from the cramped quarters inspired nothing but nostalgia in me??another year to be spent looking out on pavement and fading skid marks. Rereading the interhouse transfer policy for the umpteenth time, I accepted the fact that PfoHo was my unchangeable fate for a predetermined period. Nine months, in fact. Like the baby daddy of a pregnant Catholic schoolgirl...
...words? To get to sing them like everybody else?I looked right, past Daddy (warbling away), and saw the pew stuffed to its end. So I looked left. It was full but not crammed.And then, over the thundering third verse, I began my spate of “Exuse me??s and “I’m sorry”s and sometimes even “So sorry”s. Heading back for that wretched center aisle.Most of the folks I squeezed past were as pliant as bur reeds. I could see they were...