Word: tuna
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...week until 3 a.m. and buy a large slice of hot, greasy and (debatably) delicious pizza for $1.25. Unless otherwise requested (and why would it be?) all pizza is sold with the famous sesame seed edge. Tommy's also sells subs--the chicken parmesean is a favorite but the tuna should be avoided--and great garlic bread...
...Pacific, the Clinton Administration said Friday it would impose strict regulations that could close many areas to fishing and significantly alter fishing practices in U.S. territorial waters. The cost has been severe. The cod populations of the Grand Banks have fallen 95 percent. Populations of breeding-age Atlantic bluefin tuna have fallen more than 90 percent. In many places, the losses of commercial fish stocks have been catastrophic, and in the last decade tens of thousands of fishermen have been forced to abandon their boats. A spokeswoman for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration said that preserving fish habitat...
...parents passionately demonstrated against the civil rights violations in Vietnam; we heatedly protest the lack of flaky tuna in the Annenberg salad bar. Our parents traveled to Birmingham and Mobile, joining with southern blacks to challenge segregation and discrimination; we bravely venture to the Malkin Athletic Center and demand that the school provide improved athletic facilities. Obviously, the issues that confront our lives here at Harvard are significant. However, beyond extending dinner hours or increasing the celerity of e-mail lies an international arena full of pressing humanitarian concerns. We are often so involved with our lives here on campus...
...light yard work at President Rudenstine's house. On the other hand, if the dread charge of "behavior unbecoming a Harvard student" is raised, they could all receive a spanking from every member of the Harvard Corporation, and the registrar will be instructed to dip their transcripts in tuna oil before mailing them to potential employers...
...approached the table with trepidation. An awkward-looking man and woman dressed in clashing pastel 'Miami-Vice' jackets looked increasingly agitated in their seats. One of them looked ready to leave her tuna melt and giant chocolate chip cookie and pounce on me, the would-be assassin. So there's the Secret Service, I thought. They seemed invisible until you actually looked at them. I smiled a nice innocent smile and slid past, following our menacing bee-line towards the First Daughter and her luncheon companions. Having passed the security barrier, Chelsea looked up at us in an encouraging...