Word: pleasants
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...despite the pretense, Gabriel's early solo songs were brilliant. "Humdrum" is set to accompany Gabriel's aesthetically pleasant, if vague, worldview: "As a bull, so a dove; as below, so above." His "Family Snapshot" painted a sympathetic musical picture of a Lee Harvey Oswald so tormented by his upbringing that he had to shoot a president...
...star. Last year Smith's Place in This World was a No. 6 pop single. With his new album, Change Your World, Smith aims for the loftier success of Amy Grant, who blazed the Christian-to-pop crossover. But while the secular songs Geffen will promote to radio are pleasant (the syrupy duet with Grant, Somewhere Somehow, could be a smash), the album's better cuts reflect Smith's religious roots. A standout: Cross of Gold, which challenges people who wear holy symbols around their necks but lack saintliness in their souls...
...indoors watching television. I hate prime time television; "Thursdays at 8" is meaningless in my vocabulary. But this was late-night television, and as I soon realized, it is oh-so-much worse. Eating ten slices of sausage and onion pizza with extra garlic would have given me pleasant dreams compared to the nightmares I had from the sludge that Gilbert Godfried, host of USA network's "Up All Night," force-fed me. Okay, I wasn't exactly force-fed. I could've gone to bed or read a book or taken a walk, but I didn...
...dilapidated mobile homes, rusting farm equipment and rocky pastureland. Chickens and goats pause in the road along Sugar Orchard Creek, and neighbors glare warily at unfamiliar visitors. The Grand Wizard's home, a weathered cedar dwelling and several ramshackle outbuildings, is built on 100 forested acres. Inside, Robb's pleasant wife, Muriel, prepares dinner while Oprah chatters away on a TV set in the cluttered living room. One son, Jason, 18, ponders his homework; another son, Nathan, 21, hauls in the groceries; and Robb's 11-month-old granddaughter, Charity, toddles around in her walker. The only jarring note...
Pragmatism required, I thought, that I attend a technical college. My hand quivered a little when it wrote a checkmark in the yesbox on the MIT reply card. I dreamt in July that I'd move into Harvard Yard in the fall. Pleasant thoughts about wrought-iron gates, about pointless but titillating intellectual arguments and about a huge, well-financed library danced about in my brain, but disappeared when I woke up and remembered which school I'd chosen. It didn't mater. Prospective engineers...