Word: taxies
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...unsuspecting taxi driver was both the vehicle and a victim of a suicide bombing in Northern Iraq, today - an attack that served as a reminder that there are no rules in the campaign by the Qaeda-linked Ansar al-Islam against the local Kurdish authorities. The fight for control of a tiny sliver of northern Iraq pitches fighters loyal to the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan, which rules the eastern part of the territory liberated from Saddam Hussein in 1991, against Ansar, a small cadre of homegrown Islamic militants supported, trained and reinforced by Osama bin Laden's organization. And today...
...suicide bomber used a Land Rover taxi that regularly plies the route between Halabja and the town of Sayyid Sadiq to help him cross from Ansar-held territory into the zone controlled by government forces. He detonated his charges when confronted by government troops at a roadside checkpoint, killing two soldiers, the taxi driver and himself. The attack coincided with a conference of Iraqi opposition organizations on a post-Saddam political order, attended by Zalmay Khalilzad, President Bush's special envoy to the Iraqi opposition. Though believed to have been simply coincidental, the timing was poignant: Khalizad had come...
...another place where music, from impoverished townships like Soweto and Alexandra, spurred the people on to action - the real fight here "is really black vs. black," says a Zimbabwean M.P. "It's black people against a black leader." "The old man makes his own people panic," says Job, a taxi driver. (Names have been changed in order to protect the speakers.) "The day will come when we say 'Enough is enough.'" We thought we were liberated, but we were not," Mapfumo says, two days after the Mutare show, over a stew-and-rice dinner in the living room...
...Scorsese was reprimanded with a slap on the wrist when he was unable to identify the grammatical error in the statement, “You Talkin’ to Me”—the famous line delivered by Robert De Niro in Scorsese’s film, Taxi Driver...
...pain in my kneecap. A goggled gladiator on a motorbike has clipped me on his way past, without even stopping to see if I am O.K. Wiset pulls over at the next set of lights. As I abandon the tuk tuk and hobble off in search of a taxi, the kind with four doors, four wheels and a meter, I'm wondering what's more amazing: that I still have two moderately functioning legs, or that it was possible to attain enough speed to have an accident during rush hour in Bangkok...