Word: exit
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...Texas and his "risky" policies. (Joe Lieberman will help with that too.) The strategy carries dangers for Gore, since many voters say they don't like him when he attacks. But Gore proved in his primary contest with Bradley that Americans expect their politicians to battle about ideas. Exit polls consistently showed that voters liked Gore because he "fights for people like...
Xuan resolved to find a way to move to the U.S.--home to nearly a million Vietnamese. This month he married his childhood sweetheart, a girl from his village who had managed to get a highly valued exit visa in the 1980s and settled in Minnesota. She flew to Saigon for the wedding, but Xuan knows it will still take years for the U.S. consulate to process his visa request to join her. "I know it will not be easy in America. I will always miss my family here. But I need to try something bigger...
Drive south from Seattle on Interstate 5, through the outer suburbs and Tacoma and a steady stream of Burger Kings, and you'll know you've nearly hit Olympia when you see exit signs for Sleater-Kinney Road. Here three women once paid their dues lugging amps and guitars to a storage space where they practiced. It was the mid-'90s, when talent scouts still scoured Seattle for the next Nirvana, handing out record deals to young men in flannel with evocative band names (remember Candlebox?). Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein, Sleater-Kinney's singer-guitarists, lacked the commercial ambition...
Last Tuesday I met the Commando Chicks outside the Acme in Wilmington, Del., the heart of chicken-raising country. As we approached the store, the manager came out to accuse us of trespassing and block our entrance. The women snuck in the exit, and when the manager went to chase them, I walked in. By the time I got to the chicken section, there were quite a number of customers gathered around. I delivered my lines--"Stay away from the birds!" and "Give a cluck!"--to which one woman yelled, "I'm going to have myself a nice, juicy chicken...
That's when the police came and asked us to leave. I left. The women, however, continued to sticker the chicken. Waddling toward the exit, I grabbed a bottle of water from the shelves, thinking three things: 1) I sure am thirsty in this burning-hot chicken outfit, 2) it would be funny to stand in line in a chicken outfit, and 3) if they serve me as a customer, it's no longer trespassing. I know this isn't Brandeis-level legal thought, but I was wearing a giant chicken outfit at the time. Those judicial robes are free...