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Word: mudding (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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Those fighters sometimes seem to be the only things that move. In Shah-i-Kot you will rarely find a goat or a donkey or even a dog. Clusters of abandoned or destroyed mud-brick houses stand silent. Just a few weeks ago, these high-walled settlements were home to al-Qaeda fighters and their families. Now they look like a kind of Dresden transferred to a tiny, medieval world. In the village of Sarkhankhel, charred headstones are all that remain of many houses; crumbled walls carpet the ground. It's as though a finger of retribution reached from...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: On The Mop-Up Patrol | 3/25/2002 | See Source »

...little men." ... "I love this dirty town." ... "My right hand hasn't seen my left hand in 30 years." ... "Cat's in the bag and the bag's in the river." ... "He's got the morals of a guinea pig and the scruples of a gangster." ... "Here's mud in your column!" ... "Starting today, you can play marbles with his eyeballs." ... "This syrup you're giving out with, you pour over waffles, not J.J. Hunsecker." ... "I'd hate to take a bite out of you - you're a cookie full of arsenic." ... "Come back, Sidney, I want to chastise...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: That Old Feeling: Sweet Smells | 3/21/2002 | See Source »

There is a saying: those who cannot lose will never win. Gold medals cannot be covered with mud, no matter how hard somebody tries to dirty them. And silver medals don't turn into gold, no matter what somebody tries. The Canadian pair surely understand that they got their consolation medals just to calm down the crowd. OLGA IVANOVA Novosibirsk, Russia...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Letters: Mar. 18, 2002 | 3/18/2002 | See Source »

...micro paradise. Probas, as we later found out he was called, brought us to his father, a fisherman named Makhan. We negotiated a price for the trip?a couple of dollars?and the two of them led us through the fields into a mangrove swamp. Our feet sank into mud so black and thick it seemed they would never come back out. But Probas guided our steps and eventually, about 400 m from the shore, we found the boat...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Paradise, for Two Dollars a Week | 3/18/2002 | See Source »

...living, fiddling proof of that maxim. True, it hasn’t been easy to overcome my anti-Garth bigotry; indeed, the first time my freshman year roommate blasted “Rodeo” (It’s bulls and blood / it’s dust and mud / it’s the roar of a Sunday crowd) in our cramped dorm room, I felt every snobbish joint in my body stiffen, and I slipped on my headphones and pumped up Radiohead, or something similarly trendy...

Author: By Ross G. Douthat, | Title: Learning to Love Garth Brooks | 3/18/2002 | See Source »

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