Word: mole
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...From the conservative vantage point, the hearing looked good. Roberts wriggled out of each creative whack-a-mole attempt by senators to get him to explain his view of Roe. Specter, whose vote is considered safe but certainly key to Roberts' success, dove into the Roe line of questioning immediately, asking the judge whether he believed in such a thing as a right to privacy in the Constitution, and whether Roe qualifies as, in Specter's words, ?a super-duper precedent? thanks to 38 opportunities the Court has had to overturn it. (Roberts, in one of his Reagan-era memos...
...like Lincoln's, but a hand-me-down from the local theater troupe will do; always have a snappy response to kids' favorite question: "Aren't you dead?"; a little piece of pencil eraser affixed above the right corner of your mouth can serve as Lincoln's prominent mole; if you're not quite as tall as Lincoln, you might say, "Few men could measure...
...pretty good spy thriller can be spotted now and then, ducking around a corner or disappearing into a manhole, as Len Deighton slowly brings his three-volume tale of find-the-mole to a close. Readers who have stayed with the author from the beginning may have forgotten that Berlin Game, the first book in the trilogy, begins with British Intelligence Agent Bernard Samson and his old friend Werner Volkmann doing a bit of surveillance near the Berlin Wall. Samson, sour and middle-aged, asks, "How long have we been sitting here?" and Volkmann, an ironist, replies, "Nearly a quarter...
...grainy, and the scenes between Volkmann and Samson in the first and third novels are authoritative. Samson's predicament is a metaphor of middle age, if anyone should need one. And in the days of constant spy revelations, the central questions continue to haunt: Was nasty Fiona the only mole in the British secret service? In this most devious of games, can any side truly win game, set and match? --By John Skow Best Sellers...
...revolutionary tradition. We ran an unofficial Marxist cell, and I described myself as a Communist." Frayn's widowed father, an asbestos salesman and orthodox Laborite, was not amused. He declared that higher education was rubbish and that Michael should leave school to become a sales trainee. The son, more mole than firebrand, slowly undermined that plan and found his way to Cambridge, first as an army recruit sent to learn Russian, then as a full-time student. There he discovered, and was seduced by, the very class of society that Marxism had taught him to hate: socially adept, physically graceful...