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...sure, there are computers. But apart from its being terminally onanistic, there is no thrill in beating a machine. You can't feel its pain when it loses. Or to put it slightly less misanthropically, you miss the shared astonishment and delight at a brilliant combination or desperate last-second checkmate. If a king falls in the forest and there is no one there to see it (except you and some stone-dead chess algorithm), did it ever happen? You might as well make a hole-in-one playing alone...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Drinking Aftershave: A Confession | 3/20/2000 | See Source »

...reading fast is the best way to get past such locutions as "Her breath came in pants" or this anatomically puzzling account of Tory and Cade together in bed for the first time: "His mouth all but savaged hers, ripping down to her gut with one jagged and panicked thrill...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Publishing: Passion on the Pages | 3/20/2000 | See Source »

...said he was troubled by the increase in deterministic theories, such as the recent studies suggesting the existence of genes for thrill-seeking and homosexuality, among other behaviors...

Author: By Nell E. S. haddock, CONTRIBUTING WRITER | Title: Harvard Lecturer Challenges Book About Origins of Rape | 3/10/2000 | See Source »

There are more differences between today's online chat rooms and the parlors used for courting in the 19th century than your article "The Love Machines" admits [LIFESTYLES, Feb. 14]. Today it is relatively easy to find love online, and the sheer quantity of prospects would absolutely thrill the 19th century suitor. But will the cybermarriages last just because both parties like country music? Human compatibility is more complex. In the 19th century, a suitor had to earn his way into a parlor by showing he was worthy. There had to be evidence of success and proper living. You couldn...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Letters: Mar. 6, 2000 | 3/6/2000 | See Source »

Interstate 10, bound east to west, is a nonstop train of dreamers. Barreling through the desert, they come in search of the cheap thrill, the easy score, the fast women, the sugar daddies. On their final approach, they can already begin to make out the pale halo of the city's lights--lights that can be seen from outer orbit, against the dark face of a planet couched in the shadow of night. They make their way down to the strip and all around the city. They're greeted by a madman's dreamscape: castles made of sand, built with...

Author: By Robert J. Coolbrith, | Title: Fifteen Minutes: Reservation for One: One man, one hundred dollars and 15 hours at Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun | 3/2/2000 | See Source »

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