As a cub reporter in Texas, I served my time in the oil patch like everybody else. I wrote about wildcat drillers and roughnecks and old played-out boom towns like Ranger, Texas. I learned about "tertiary recovery" (you don't want to know) and slant drilling and how to calculate oil reserves (you call up this one guy in Dallas).
The wind chill had to be 10 degrees, but six of us walked out onto the foredeck of the sleek yacht. We were six strangers, forsaking the New Year's Eve dance parties that were boiling on two decks inside, and we emerged all at the same moment, bracing ourselves against the freezing air rushing across the Hudson.
Why is there no media outrage over Jose Padilla?
All we have is dry bare-bones reporting on the first case since the founding of the republic in which an American citizen gets thrown into a dungeon and left there.
Whenever someone starts a new magazine, the first thing they do is hire a cold-call advertising salesman.These guys tend to be grumpy loners who could care less about you or your magazine, but have two questions: What are your sales goals?
A few words in defense of graffiti. (Please don't kill me.)
When Howard Dean showed up in Bryant Park last week to seek the city's support for his presidential run, he erected a huge graffiti wall similar to the spray-painted scrawls that
The Supreme Court's decision on affirmative action can be summed up as, "Don't ask. Don't tell."
You can use quotas, as long as you don't call them quotas. You can judge a person by his race, as long as you say, "Well, it was just one of a number of factors."
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