Word: bobbed
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...rolled up most of its regional networks when the Soviets pulled out of Afghanistan in 1989. Its old sources dried up, and the Executive Order that put restrictions on hiring local assets with unsavory backgrounds made the agency reluctant to rent new ones. Now, says Senate Intelligence chairman Bob Graham, "it's a high priority to get a foreign national who will become our spy and have the entree to get close enough to the head of al-Qaeda...
...week later, the Citizens’ Scholarship Foundation of America “Families of Freedom Scholarship Fund”—chaired by former President Bill Clinton and former Senate Majority Leader Bob Dole—and the American Council for Education announced that they would join Harvard’s efforts and create a September 11 Scholarship Fund, quickly placing Harvard—and Summers—in the national spotlight as leaders of the effort...
...Summer days and summer nights are gone / I know a place where there’s still something going on.” Listening to the new Bob Dylan album after being subject to barrages of hip, carefully-controversial rap, or slick discs on which the artist has about as much to do with the sound as the cover photographer is a bit like walking from a high-powered cocktail reception into a raucous Irish pub. Suddenly the place is full of smoke, foot stamping music and competing voices in various states of unpredictability, love proclamations and self-declamation. Flipping...
...Bob Slate is a perfect example. Essentially, it is a bunch of extremely nice, WASPy-looking, middle-aged men selling overpriced stationery. Does this strike anyone else as being slightly peculiar? I go in, spend one minute picking up a $6.95 green-tinted, college-ruled notebook because I’m too lazy to walk to Staples, and inevitably spend five exchanging interminable pleasantries with Mike, the overzealous cashier. It’s like trying to get off the phone with your grandmother. Do I want a bag with that? No? Need a receipt? No? Crazy weather we?...
Another unsettling thing about Cambridge (or rather, Harvard Square and environs) is how nothing completely fits together. The men of Bob Slate would be less strange, probably, were they not a few hundred feet from the piercings and Grateful Dead T-shirts of the Toscanini’s posse. And that hearty artifact from The Era of Male Harvard, Stonestreet, would not seem so conspicuous were it not for the mecca of grunge hip, Urban Outfitters, just around the corner. Nor would the surburban gauntlet of Bruegger’s Bagels, Starbucks and the Tennis Shop seem particularly anything...