Word: wasteland
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...million a year in taxes from the forest-products industry. Workers and businesses serving the timber industry could lose another $106 million per year. Beyond that, Maine's $450 million-a-year tourist industry will suffer; no campers or hunters will want to go into a gloomy wasteland of dead trees. In the competition with the budworm, concludes Lester De-Coster, New England regional manager of the American Forest Institute, "man cannot afford to lose...
...explore Texas' Big Bend National Park three years ago, he was confident that his fossil hunt would be productive. After all, remnants of creatures ranging from the ferocious dinosaur Tyrannosaurus rex to the first true bird, Archaeopteryx, had already been unearthed in the fossil-rich wasteland. What Lawson found exceeded his wildest hopes: fragments of huge wing bones imbedded in a sandstone outcropping in a remote part of the park. Now, after comparing the bones with the remains of similar creatures found elsewhere, Lawson has announced that they belong to a giant extinct flying reptile, or pterosaur (literally, winged...
...recession to Page One and the top of TV news programs, it has become painfully apparent that American journalism, by and large, provides dismal coverage of the Dismal Science. Lyle Harris, director of the business-journalism program at the University of Missouri, sees business reporting as "a great wasteland. The public doesn't understand the stories, and the reporters don't either." To Louis Rukeyser, moderator of Public Broadcasting's excellent Wall Street Week, economics is the "No. 1 failing of journalism...
...THEME, in a word, is alienation. And because alienation has been cooked to a charred kernel, at least since Eliot's "unreal city" in The Wasteland, all that is left to do is pick it apart into ashes and let them scatter about in modernist prose, hoping that something new and different will happen. In Box Man every conceivable "new" technique is used--from describing the color of ink used in the marginalia, printed verbatim, to a fight between the box man and his fictitious alter-ego about who is the real narrator of the story...
Quite a few photographs span the walls, while one set, by Bob Beusman, zig-zags across a table; Beusman calls it "Thirty-three Kodak Cuties Say Buy Me!", but there are only twenty-four. Bob Ely's pictures, in tempered grays, are slices from a Midwestern wasteland. He has fixed an eerie view of a technological desert: an empty drive-in-movie parking lot with a massive, mottled white screen leaning over it sprouts speakers on poles at gawky angles in the dust, and a jet plane hovers, hawk-like, in one corner...