Word: stouts
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...TIME ("Can Thor Make a Comeback?" Dec. 16) that described how ancient religions have at last found their way to the Internet. There seemed something funny and very American about insisting that eternity must scramble to catch up with progress--God's obligation to gadgets. It is the Stout Cortez Syndrome, the New World habit of needing a procession of new worlds, transformative revelations following upon one another like new-model cars...
...identified. Luckily, the CGIS is not a pyramid, even though the Center for American Political Studies gets a fourth floor perch, while—for example—the David Rockefeller Center for Latin American Studies sits just one story above street level. Out in the garden, stout little glass pyramid nudges its way between two wooden houses. A rather awkward allusion to I.M. Pei’s glass pyramid at the Louvre, this skylight is only further ridiculed by the nearby presence of another much more elegant asymmetrical glass pyramid also designed by Cobb. But this is precisely what...
...class Washash neighborhood, al-Obaidi would spend his days styling hair--for Sunnis, Shi'ites, Christians, whoever showed up at his World of Haircuts barbershop. Evenings, he would slip off to play soccer with friends. These days, however, as Iraq plunges deeper into civil unrest, al-Obaidi, 27, a stout, personable man who sports a buzz cut, spends much of his time calculating how to stay alive, wondering whether the anonymous killers who now stalk the streets of Washash will come after him, perhaps at his shop or on the long road home...
Kings in the 15th century were known to have held their summit meetings in the middle of a bridge. The two sovereigns did their talking through a stout oak lattice set up between them, like the prison grate during visitors' hours. That way, neither could kidnap the other...
...journalists always turn their heads where the noise is. For the nearness of power too. Merely the thought of the two big bosses sitting knee to knee, tossing the world's well-being back and forth, is enough to thump the journalistic heart. Back in Reykjavík, in that stout symmetrical house by the water, an abstract enmity is reduced to two men talking together. A rare real moment in the bipolar war of nerves, well worth writing home about. And still: What am I doing here...