Word: mined
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...some point, after soaking up the posters and commercials and talk-show appearances, you convince yourself that this sequel might be different. This one--the one with the characters you want so much to hang out with again for two hours--could be good. "A friend of mine said there are only three good sequels," says Matt Damon, who stars in Ocean's Twelve. "The New Testament is better than the Old. Huck Finn is better than Tom Sawyer, and Godfather II is better than The Godfather...
...little farfetched, you'll lose the audience--but if you make it a lot farfetched, folks will play along. Lost's plots, like those of Alias, make you suspect that Abrams has no clue where all this is going, but the fun is making your own guess. (Here's mine: at some point in the season, a character will say, "This plane crash was no accident!") As long as the twists keep coming, these castaways should be in for a nice long wait. --By James Poniewozik...
...intensity that made me love her long before I liked to cook. As so many cowardly loves do, mine started under the pretense of camp--that I was at least half mocking her, as Dan Aykroyd did on Saturday Night Live. The first time I saw her, the TV must have been on PBS when my dad left the room. There she was, a 6-ft. 2-in. matronly woman with a warbling New England--inflected accent that Katharine Hepburn would have found snobby. And yet, even to my teenage brain, she was clearly a badass. She explained sides...
...favor of a pre-emptive war to get Saddam Hussein before he used weapons of mass destruction against the U.S. or supplied them to terrorists. I now realize we Americans were deceived by our President and Vice President. There is no virtue in blind, stupid stubbornness (neither mine nor our President's), no wisdom in sticking to an untenable position. I am flip-flopping to support Kerry. STEWART PERRY Wayzata, Minn...
...feet wet, for the entire trip. With no room for luxuries like a hairbrush, I find space to stash away some chocolate. When we meet at the bus for the drive to the tributary where we'll inflate our two rafts, our companions' bags look just as lumpy as mine. They're a group of six friends in their 40s, four businessmen from New South Wales and two Germans, one of them the owner of a hemp shop who spends the first few afternoons in camp lying motionless in his sleeping bag. The Germans have never been to Tasmania before...