Word: metallization
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...kill you, right? I’d just go for it, get right on the bandwagon,” says Meares. Natalie D. Evans ’08 shared the experiences of a friend under Communist rule in East Germany. “If you brought pieces of scrap metal to the automobile factory,” she said, “you got your car five to seven years sooner!” Who said Communism was inflexible? But Evans also warns, based on time spent in China: “Communist cuisine is terrible. Worst fucking food...
...board literally two seconds before we got to the plane’s walkway—the door was slammed in my face. I even had my hand on the handle, but the female attendant was too strong (don’t laugh), and forcibly closed the huge metal door in front of me. Needless to say, I was livid.The story could end here, too. I could have gotten a ticket for another flight, gotten home, and written letters to the unnamed airline. Nope. Despite the fact that some sympathetic ticket agents informed me that there were zero flights...
...give you the death penalty. But we want to give you a chance to reform yourself. Are you going to confess?'' Everybody stared at me expectantly. I said nothing. The man beckoned to a youth at the back of the mob, who came forward with a pair of shiny metal handcuffs, then asked, ''Are you going to confess?'' I answered in a calm voice, ''I've never done anything against the People's Government. I have no connection with any foreign government.'' ''Come along!'' the young man with the handcuffs said. Parked in front of the school was a black...
...hands and took care of my injuries, and eventually they began to heal. It took me many months of intense effort to be able to raise my arms above my head; it was a full year before I could stretch them straight above me. The deeper wounds where the metal of the handcuffs cut through my flesh almost to the bone left scars that remain with me to this...
...could see myself in some sawmill," says Mario Navarrete, 18, whose two older brothers labor as sheet metal and chemical workers, respectively. Two decades after immigrating from the Mexico City suburb of Michoacan, Javier Navarrete is still stretching his logging company wages to provide for his wife and the four children, including Mario, who remain at home. College, he told his progeny, was too much of a stretch. "Sorry, but there's no money," Mario remembers his father saying. He also remembers his father's amazement when told that, yes, there was money. "He didn't cry. I wanted...