Word: mudding
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...mystique of ritual killing is so powerful that even those who actually don't perform it claim to do so. In their camp in the cremation grounds beside the temple, a throng of tantrics tout for business by competing to be as spooky as possible, lining their mud-walled temples with human skulls and telling tall tales of human sacrifice. "I cut off her head," says 64-year-old Baba Swami Vivekanand of a girl he says he raised from birth. "We buried the body and brought the head back, cooked it and ate it." He pauses to demand...
...springs aren't particularly scenic, but they are easy to find. Follow the stench of sulfur to a mud-encrusted plateau in the southwest corner of Japan's oldest natural park, Unzen. There, boardwalks loop through clouds of steam and around the three springs. A tangle of steel pipes directs the water to hotels and resorts in the nearby towns of Unzen and Obama, the destinations of choice for Japan's honeymooners, the elderly seeking respite from their rheumatism and anyone preferring a soak to a hike...
...residents in the tiny Italian Alpine village of Macugnaga (pop. 700) were under threat. A giant lake had formed atop a glacier on Monte Rosa, and authorities worried that the water would burst its banks - or worse, that the glacier itself would become dislodged, sending a river of ice, mud, rock and debris crashing down the mountainside and into Macugnaga situated below. Disaster was averted thanks to cooler temperatures and frantic efforts to pump water out of the lake. But for Andreas Kääb, a glaciologist at the University of Zurich, the Macugnaga incident is both a fascinating...
...also an old-fashioned snob about taste, Epstein well knows that old-fashioned snobbery is dead. The Waspocracy, as he dubs it, is no longer the arbiter of much of anything--particularly when George W. Bush, a genuine Wasp aristocrat, portrays himself as a good ol' Texan with mud on his cowboy boots...
...still see the hole like it was yesterday, and it was. Life is a perpetual yesterday for us. It was the size of a small room, the mud room in our house, say, where we kept our boots and slickers and where Mom had managed to fit a washer and dryer, one on top of the other. I could almost stand up in it, but Mr. Harvey had to stoop. He'd created a bench along the sides of it by the way he'd dug it out. He immediately sat down...