Word: squatness
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...squat, twin-arched concrete bridge at No Gun Ri was built to span a small creek. But for a terrifying three days in late July 1950, it spanned a killing field. Last week the Pentagon was stunned by an Associated Press report, backed up by eyewitness accounts, that a frightened U.S. Army unit had killed as many as 300 civilians at No Gun Ri in the opening weeks of the Korean War. Such a bloodbath would rank as the century's second deadliest committed by U.S. troops, trailing only the 1968 My Lai massacre in Vietnam, where G.I.s killed...
...particularly fond of our habit of polling ourselves to find out how dumb we are. Almost weekly you can find the papers reporting some study that shows Americans know squat about history or geography or our own Constitution. Then we all clap our hands to our foreheads and bemoan the national dumbness once more. The most recent studies show that 72.6% of Americans believe Alexis de Tocqueville never should have divorced Blake Carrington and 94.7% think Chad is a men's cologne...
...Between my finger and my thumb/The squat pen rests. /I'll dig with it." With these final words, the poem "Digging" began 1995 Nobel Prize winner and Ralph Waldo Emerson Visiting Poet Seamus Heaney's first collection of poems (Death of a Naturalist) in 1966, inaugurating an entire corpus of work that resonates majestically with themes of searching, wandering and exploring ever downward and inward. Each of his collections of poetry, while encompassing individually different personal, historical, social and political modes, echoes with similar thematic and imagistic ideas. Until now, there really was no comprehensive retrospective of Heaney's work...
...lineman [in football] who can squat 500pounds will not play if he can't block his way outof a paper bag," Sardo says...
...headed retro pick-up leaves a black Corvette limping along behind it to the finish line. Lake a scene from a surreal self-help movie, "Impatience" is neck and neck with the blue and red "Mid-Life Crisis." The motorcycles--mostly garishly-colored Japanese makes interspersed with the occasional squat, old Harley--are faster than most of the cars, occasionally breaking the 10-second barrier, and their starts are more impressive, the drivers in tight leather racing suits rising up and leaning far out over the handlebars like sprinters before...