Word: rage
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...Samantha Whittaker), dressed in schoolgirl plaids and played as a sexually precocious teeny-bopper who needs Hamlet as much as he needs his own onanistic misery. He stretches in his chair like a Catalan death puppet, and often holds his head as if it would split from shame or rage. He might implode to suicide or explode into fury. He is, in other words, your basic melancholy teen, believing that no adult can comprehend the misery he is undergoing just by being alive. He can be found anywhere from Liverpool. England, to Littleton, Colorado...
...With surfing beaches in Europe, the U.S. and the Pacific coast becoming crowded?and "surf rage" an all too frequent hazard as devotees fight over precious waves?consider hitting the beach in Asia instead. Until recently, surfing had relatively few followers in the region, but more surf shops and surfing schools are now emerging, offering beginners everything from laughably cheap board rental to all-inclusive (and very reasonable) deals on accommodation, meals and instruction. Most guarantee that you'll be riding the waves after a second lesson...
...post-Saddam Iraq. Allawi had set himself up as a tough guy ready to impose draconian measures to quell the country's relentless violence. Yet taking the fight all the way to the golden-domed Imam Ali shrine, where al-Sadr's men were dug in, could spark uncontrollable rage among the country's majority Shi'ite population. Unrest had quickly spread across the Shi'ite south and into Baghdad's teeming Sadr City slums. Washington sensed that a critical turning point had been reached: a widening conflagration would not only be devastating to the U.S. effort to bring some...
Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve always romanticized road rage. The highlight of Driver’s Ed was the video of a man with a chain attacking another with a broken bottle as the two fought on the shoulder. Much more admirable, I thought, than cursing under your breath. Say it to my face. Or as a wise man once said: “Bring...
...after day I plow through the tropical heat, stewing in my silent rage. When I turn around there’s no signal, no wave, and no hesitation. That’s why I had to tailgate the Toyota, and all during the low-speed chase I thought about the monster I’ve become...