Word: modelied
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Friedman continues the informal mode of popular scholarship that earned him acclaim. Exclamation marks are everywhere, and Friedman coins several clever and useful monikers. “Developing Countries Anonymous,” for instance, expresses the need for underdeveloped countries to engage in self-reflection, openly avow their lack of development, and then consciously choose to fix it. He also intersperses personal accounts of minor technological enlightenment—realizing that he can print his boarding pass at home, for instance—that provide a welcome air of self-deprecation to countervail the author’s reverence...
Music aficionados, don't touch that dial: 100.3 Jack FM is in random-shuffle mode, and a finicky channel changer might miss the next segment of generation-spanning sounds, which at noon includes Prince, Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana and Men at Work. Jack FM is an example of terrestrial radio's answer to the satellite challenge, a hodgepodge of sound and attitude that marries prolonged music streams--sans DJ interruptions and caller requests--with limited commercials and shorter ad blocks. And when there are commercial breaks, a Jack announcer all but apologizes. "Time to pay the bills," he says...
...distinctly remember the days when I would giggle at my aunt and uncle making “fishy lips” when they kissed. I was eight. Now we’re in college. And we no longer define kissing as a mode of transferring cooties. If you really like this girl, the rest will come. So, enjoy your fishy lips; maybe you’ll find a little slobber is the key to long-term happiness...
...chose to fast and attend services on Yom Kippur. The ritual made me think about the world’s hunger. It cleared my head. I was touched by the communal confession of sin (I couldn’t help comparisons to that other religion’s mode of confession) and the final prayers as the sun set. It was a beautiful observance...
...which means I can never again bitch to my blockmates about having been sexiled; my last chance to comp anything has gone by. My last campus job is the one I am now working. I am enrolled in my last undergraduate classes. Probably the worst thing about this elegiac mode is that it precludes new beginnings. There is no sense in marking promising classes that we have not yet taken in the course catalog. There is no sense in admiring rooms that you no longer have a chance to win in the housing lottery. Senior year is like a series...