Word: skulled
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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Last Saturday morning, as demonstrators against a U.S. attack on Iraq trickled onto the lawns next to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C., a woman in a cowboy hat and a skull mask worked the edges of the crowd. She handed me a neat, word-processed flier from a stack under her arm. There were no “Muslim terrorists” on the flights on Sept. 11, it said. The whole atrocity was set up by the U.S. government, which directed the planes by remote-control. About ten web addresses followed. I pursued the woman to the next...
...returning from Washington, I told a Harvard friend about the woman in the skull mask. “The extremists are inevitable,” he replied. “That’s why I don’t go to rallies.” Most Harvard students are embarrassed by the trappings of demonstrations and the extremists who frequent them. We practice critical thinking all day. By night, we write response papers ripping apart political theories and literary masterpieces. The earnest “Hey hey, ho ho, war in Iraq must go” of the kids...
...Doonesbury or even those Boondocks kids to tap into a real, terrified American consciousness. Over the past year, in a country newly raw to terrorism and wartime brutality, the Get Your War On web-links hopped from cubicle to office to dormitory. Now Rees has a publisher, Soft Skull Press (run by Richard Nash ’92-’93), and a bound copy of his comic...
There, two members of the troupe introduce the fight to the confused shoppers. Butterbean hits Knoxville, sending him down. Knoxville gets up twice before going down for good. As Knoxville falls the third time, his skull catches the corner of a jewelry counter, and blood spurts from his head, creating a growing pool on the carpet. Knoxville, who does not snore, is snoring in his concussion. The set medic runs over and wraps gauze around his head. No one is laughing. In person, this is not funny...
Medics rushed Pham Dang Hieu, blood seeping from his crushed skull and his panicked family trailing, into the emergency room of Hanoi's Viet Duc University Hospital at 9:30 on a Sunday evening. The 27-year-old engineer had swerved his 100cc Honda Wave motorcycle to avoid a bicycle and crashed into a concrete lane divider near his home. His bleary-eyed brother stared blankly at the widening pool of blood on the sheet beneath Hieu's head as the doctor explained the family's options: hook him up to life support, or take him home to die. Either...