Word: monsters
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Ahhhh…. Opening Day at Fenway Park. Warm sunshine, the smell of freshly cut grass, that first delicious bite of a Fenway Frank, the crack of the bat as Big Papi puts one over the Green Monster. Oh wait, just kidding. It’s actually raining, hovering around 44 degrees, and Opening Day was just cancelled. Thank you New England weather...
...meteor. She stumbles into the ceremony, where she quickly expands to an unsuitable size - 49 ft. 11½ in., to be exact. Wearing the incredible elasto-gowns indispensable to expanding humans in family-friendly movies, Susan is secreted into an Area 51 prison and saddled with the monster moniker Ginormica. Given her powers of radioactive feminismo, she really should be called Gynormica - a heroine the followers of Hillary Clinton could believe in. (Watch TIME's video "Captain 3-D: Monster Maker...
...there was one, the Camaro was launched in the 1967 model year in response to Ford's fabulous Mustang. The Camaro made waves quickly, because buyers had the option of muscling it up with GM's big-block V8 engines, turning a sporty 4-seat roadster into a street monster and track regular. Mustang had the name; but Camaro had the horses. Like many of Detroit's muscle cars, though, Camaro was doomed by paunchier styling and performance over the years, and the car's blue-collar fans drifted away to pickup trucks and sport utility vehicles. Slow sales doomed...
Kutiman's videos have exploded on the Web, drawing million of viewers in a matter of days, and offering amateur musicians (whose concerts are usually a party of one) some long sought-after attention. Before he came along, the Monster Love Bot had garnered a mere 4,627 hits on YouTube. Reggae artist Mighty Lion's "exclusive" a cappella clip fared even worse, attracting just 4,423 pairs of eyeballs since he uploaded it last March. But now, thanks to "This Is What It Became," the Lion and the Love Bot have been introduced to more than half a million...
Though the National Book Critics Circle Award carries no money, its posthumous awarding to Roberto Bolaño for his monster of a work, “2666,” raises a host of unsettling questions about the place of prizes, especially monetized prizes, in the world of letters. It’s not that “2666” was not a great work or that I feel it shouldn’t have won. In fact, though I have to admit I haven’t finished it, I have a hard time believing that there...