Word: skins
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...been strangled. An hour earlier, Reichert had been coming home from church with his wife Julie and three small children. Now he was standing on the bank of the Green River thinking out the first steps in a murder investigation, trying to ignore the flies biting his skin...
...hippest purveyor of premium jeans these days is Diesel, an Italian brand that was selling $100-plus jeans back when people were predicting denim's demise. Diesel now offers 25 cuts and 100 washes. "Jeans are like a second skin," says Maurizio Marchiori, Diesel's U.S. head of marketing. "You can be comfortable and individual at the same time. They'll never...
...this year. Does Brava work? The answer appears to be yes, but very modestly and not without considerable discomfort and inconvenience. The first batch of Brava bravers complained of rashes and started a now defunct website called Brav-Argh. (Brava says the rashes have been addressed with a new skin treatment.) A more typical experience seems to be that of Christina Ashe, whose job at Hooters in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., may explain why she wore her Brava faithfully for 17 weeks. "If you want that fake Pamela Anderson look, this isn't the right thing," says Ashe, who still wears...
Stephen Jay Gould reinvented science writing. Before him, we had the flowery exaltation of nature ("Far in the empty sky a solitary esophagus slept upon motionless wing," in Mark Twain's parody) and the skin-deep attempt to bring science to the masses (immune cells are little soldiers--no, they're locks and keys--except when they're garbage disposals). Gould's essays were something else: witty, respectful of his readers' intelligence, always finding a principle in a grain of sand and a law in a wildflower. That the essays were also a velvet glove for Gould's iron convictions...
...says. "God bless Saddam!" The Tajikistan Angel on the Right Shoulder opens on a deserted highway; a man stands there with a sheep. He flags down a taxi; he and his sheep get in. This man, a Muslim, complains to the driver that "the Russians think anyone with dark skin is a bandit." Turns out he's not a bandit; he's a heroin dealer. But then, in this dark, delicious comedy everyone is a crook: the ex-con hero, his "dying" mother and the village mayor who acts as if he's Vito Corleone. Creative chicanery: that's capitalism...