Word: guns
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...Anderson. Along the way, the hidden cameras capture a Southern dinner party's dismay with Borat's bathroom habits, and the guests' reaction on the arrival of his date--a black hooker. All the marks are unaware they're being fooled, which is hard to believe, especially when a gun dealer responds to the question "What kind of a gun would you recommend to kill a Jew?" with a nonchalant "I'd recommend a 9-mm or a Glock automatic." (Baron Cohen is Jewish.) The detailed legal releases, which it seems no one ever reads, were presented to people...
...year later, with Fallujah turning into a stronghold of the insurgency and gun battles breaking out on their street almost every day, the family moved again--this time to Ramadi, the capital of the restive Anbar province. Ramadi soon went the way of Fallujah, its streets controlled by jihadist gangs fighting pitched battles with U.S. Marines. One day an extremist cleric visited Waddah's home and urged the four brothers to join the holy war against the Americans. When the brothers refused, the cleric threatened to let loose his fighters on the family. The only way out was to move...
...said. "The voters are concerned about the fact that is getting harder to make ends meet, and that the minimum wage has not gone up in a decade." In general, Ellsworth is not easy to portray as out of step with local values: he is also against abortion and gun control and for tougher immigration laws...
...where my bed was again!” That is a lie. Something you’ve always wanted to tell someone: I’m not big on sharing. I stick to social niceties and repress the rest. Favorite childhood toy: My Uzi, full sized, 9mm sub-machine gun. Best part about Harvard: NO PARENTS!!!!!!!! Worst part about Harvard: The low thread-count sheets at Stillman. How you got your name: It was my grandmother’s. She’s dead now. Thanks a lot. Describe yourself in three words: Made In Vagina. In 15 minutes...
...bang. No light, no pretty stream of sparks, just an explosion. The noises from across the city reminded me of my time in Baghdad. There were big resonating whumps that sounded like mortar fire, and the regular chatter of strings of tiny crackers that sounded like a bucking machine gun. A familiar fear flooded back: that strange sense of dislocation you have in war, unsure of where the next explosion will come from but aware that it is never far away. I thought about my colleagues in Baghdad who still experience the real thing day after...