Word: mortals
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...twelve-week-old fetus. The images are grainy and vague, but Narrator Nathanson provides explanation. "The child," he says, "senses aggression in its sanctuary" and moves in an "agitated" manner away from the surgical instruments in a "pathetic attempt to escape." Its heart rate $ increases as it "senses mortal danger," and, he notes, pointing to a fuzzy image, it opens its mouth in a horrible "silent scream...
...golf tracts out of mountainsides. Presumably he is motivated by something other than a passion for landscaping. Considering his accomplishments, no athlete has avoided arrogance better than Nicklaus, who has slipped as a golfer, even then maybe only as a putter, but is still not quite back to mortal at 45. "I had the confidence to try to be the best ever --you have to," he says. "But I never thought in terms of being it. I don't think even 20 years from now, looking back at the record, I'll ever say it." So he is carving...
Town elders Mandy Torpedoes (Mark Graham) and Mayor John Overflow (Ty Christopher Warren) grudgingly release their two captives to assist the oh so devout Amos Behavin (William Nicholas Weit) on a search-and-destroy mission to an alleged witch haunt. The Mortal Inn. (The directions to the inn sound curiously like the route to Jordan's Furniture Waitham.) A few contraception jokes and the ubiquitous stick-it-to-the nearby women's college slam--"A.B. from Harvard, VD from Wellesley" later, the trio arrive at the inn, supposedly the nest of a bevy of premisenous. In fact, this...
...colonial-age McCarthss find an all in the supernaturally spotty angel Alexis Position (Guy LaCrospy) When not rejecting the advances of Lon Sutter (Peter Sagal), a frustrated devil with a macho complex. Alexis is busy trying to tid Salem of its witches. Although the inn matrons are all-too mortal. Alexis goes in for the kill once she sees Lou cavorting with the leggy Anna, a woman literally dripping with scarier letters...
...emotional topography bears the mark of James M. Cain. A scorching sun boils the conversation into lies and insults; on the hot, empty nights there is little for a woman to do but cheat on her husband, and little for the husband to do but plot his mortal revenge. It sounds all too familiar: the slapping of thigh on thigh, the contagious guilt of working-class adulterers, the geometry of ricocheting recriminations, fate twisting duplicitous lovers slowly in the wind--The Postman with Body Heat Rings Double Indemnity...