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...analogy at all. It is a real, shocking and bitterly ironic incident that took place in Leverett Dining Hall the other day. Dartboard himself took his place in line that fateful evening alongside that hungry crowd, his tummy rumbling, his eyes entranced by the site of that lone slice of pizza, as golden and greasy as a Tuscan afternoon. How fortunate I am, Dartboard thought to himself, to be able to enjoy the simple pleasure of a hot slice of pizza. But just then Dartboard watched in horror as Professor Brian Palmer, head of such courses...

Author: By Eoghan W. Stafford, | Title: Dartboard | 2/26/2004 | See Source »

Imagine the entire world represented by ten people standing in line in the Leverett dining hall, and that there is just one slice of pizza left. Now picture the person who is at the front of the line—purely by historical accident, as opposed to merit or justice. We’ll call this person … say, “Brian Palmer”.  Now suppose that, with no regard to the nine hungry people waiting in line behind him, “Brian Palmer” decides to take that last slice...

Author: By Eoghan W. Stafford, | Title: Dartboard | 2/26/2004 | See Source »

Dartboard was not asking for much. How grateful Dartboard would have been if Palmer had deigned to share with Dartboard even the crust of the pizza, or a single pepperoni. But apparently Palmer did not realize that the slice of pizza he would soon be wantonly devouring was completely nonrenewable. Nor, it seems, was he aware that his daily choices affect others all over the planet, and most importantly, Dartboard...

Author: By Eoghan W. Stafford, | Title: Dartboard | 2/26/2004 | See Source »

...which the concept of justice is embedded in the ideal of equality? (Or perhaps it is the other way around?) Palmer may indeed have been “first” in line, but that does not justify his personal choice to preempt Dartboard from getting the last slice of pizza, and consume it unilaterally...

Author: By Eoghan W. Stafford, | Title: Dartboard | 2/26/2004 | See Source »

...fortune-teller's call compete for the almighty tourist dollar. By night, though, the square is transformed into a smorgasbord of street food. A cloud of smoke hangs over endless rows of food stalls, each one grilling, boiling, frying or steaming some tasty morsel. Chefs in white aprons scoop, slice and serve like doctors trying to cure world hunger, one bowl of couscous at a time...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Marrakech Express | 2/23/2004 | See Source »

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