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...While custodians earn $14.39 per hour at MIT, $14.97 at Boston University and $15.26 at Wellesley, custodians at Harvard are paid $9.65. The wages that Harvard’s service workers earn do not translate into buying store-brand food instead of expensive brands; they translate into eating in soup kitchens, going without meals to feed their children and salvaging other people’s leftovers out of the trash. They work upwards of 80 hours a week not to save up, but to barely scrape by. And at a University world-renowned for its exceptional medical facilities and public...

Author: By Jessica A.R. Fragola and Molly E. Mcowen, S | Title: Harvard’s Ghastly Arithmetic | 11/6/2001 | See Source »

...Gourmet Club, the short story of the book's title, is the hidden haven of a gourmand who concocts exotic dishes out of ingredients such as tree bark, bird droppings and human saliva for a menu that might feature "Phlegm-and-Spittle Liquid Jade" or "Velvet Carpeting Soup." Mr. Bluemound represents the epitome of extreme movie goddess worship: a smitten fan constructs a series of actual physical replicates of the star in various positions for his own erotic purposes. And in Manganese Dioxide Dreams the narrator pleasurably views his own stool specimens as if they were the ink blots...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Seeking Credit Offshore | 11/5/2001 | See Source »

...goatee, checked shawl and round woolen cap he bears a passing resemblance to Ahmad Shah Massoud, the assassinated commander who assembled these forces. In a conventional army Allah Mahmad would be a captain. Here he's called commander, a hard-earned rank denoting his seniority not over some alphabet-soup unit in a regimental chain of command but instead over a specific band of 20 men and boys who know each other and fight as much for the guy next to them as for any grand cause...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Down, Dirty and Aching for a Fight | 10/29/2001 | See Source »

...three men are left on guard, the rest crammed into a tiny room lined with iron beds. Squatting around a smoky hurricane lamp we eat a meal of stale bread dunked in thin soup and drink strong black tea. After finishing, two of the boys turn to karambol, a game like pool in which flat counters are flicked across a board. Farid, another section commander, sits intently loading an ammunition belt with machine-gun rounds. Allah Mahmad lounges on one of the beds and talks wistfully of wanting the kind of education for his four sons that he never...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Down, Dirty and Aching for a Fight | 10/29/2001 | See Source »

...admit that I have never been in a swan boat, never climbed to the top of the Prudential Center, never peered intently at the water that a few fiery revolutionaries once turned into tea. But I have visited China Town in wind so bitter that my hot and sour soup froze as I stepped out the door. I have driven to the Cape and back in one night just to eat ice cream before the parlors boarded their windows for the first frost. I’ve made snow angels in front of Faneuil Hall, made canolis in the North...

Author: By Lauren E. Baer, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: On Listlessness | 10/24/2001 | See Source »

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