Word: miens
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...record into the winningest team of the '80s, with three Super Bowls in seven years. Before Walsh, conventional wisdom held that NFL coaches needed a loud voice and an iron fist. Walsh was just as likely to appeal to his players' intellect. With his silver hair and professorial mien, he was nicknamed "the Genius." His main invention was the West Coast offense, a now widely practiced style of play that eschewed long passes and runs up the middle in favor of short, surgical passes that dissected countless defenses. Equally indelible was the Minority Coaching Fellowship Program, started by Walsh...
...position to observe a Dahmer at work survive to talk about it, but plenty of people present at shootings like those at Virginia Tech or Columbine High School in Littleton, Colo., in 1999 make it out alive. And what they describe about the killer's mien as the shooting is taking place sounds nothing like a person who's thrilled by - or even much enjoying - what he's doing. There is, survivors report, a cold joylessness to the proceedings, something that in its own way is a lot harder to parse than the perverse pleasure of a serial killer. What...
...police set aside civil liberties in a hunt for suspects that engendered something close to national hysteria. The RAF targeted and killed bankers, business titans, jurists, bureaucrats and policemen in a delusional campaign of "armed struggle" aimed at revealing a fascist core beneath the self-satisfied mien of West Germany's democratic institutions. In those "years of lead," West Germany seemed hopelessly at war with itself, its self-confidence shaken to the core...
...seemed to be after the end of the cold war. To some, the schadenfreude was too much to resist: "They've been knocked off their perch," said one Brit, with grim and evident satisfaction. But much more often, the relative decline of American power was discussed with a worried mien, one that recognized that, if the U.S. did not make things happen in the world, then nobody else would, either...
...Wide awake now, I thought about Roger. I saw a handsome, husky guy smiling with his confident, slightly superior mien, strolling around the small, rich town of my boyhood. I heard his low hearty laugh, remembered his cutting, just off-color humor. Then that limbic system-memory link kicked in - the thing that brings you right back to your kindergarten classroom when you get a whiff of a crayon. I smelled Roger: Chivas Regal. I called my nurse back. This was always an order that always made them nervous. "Two ounces spiritus vini vitis," I said, referring to the pharmacy...