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(07/24/02 4:00am)
Bye-bye pork rinds,
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Bye-bye pork rinds,
So, I was this close to snatching Nelly's new exploitapalooza, Nellyville, from the shelf last night.
s heinous of an individual as Mike Tyson truly is, all aspects of his checkered career in the limelight--the rape charge, the abominable misogyny, Evander Holyfield's gnawed ear--make him absolutely and inexplicably impossible not to watch. Ever since 1986, when he first claimed the heavyweight championship of the world, Tyson has put sports fans into a perverse hypnotic haze with a public image that combines part fantastic human specimen with part circus sideshow.
After the brilliantly orchestrated chaos of OK Computer redefined what it meant to make a great album amidst the millennial haze, every band with three prerequisites--a guitar, a hint of droopiness and a dash of talent--has earned the title of "THE NEW RADIOHEAD." Travis and Coldplay have worn that badge the longest, but these two bands beg the question: If the "NEW RADIOHEADS" cannot hold a paranoid android to the original, what is the point?
"I've seen fire and I've seen rain."
You've seen it, your cousin has seen it and that sci-fi freak in your cell bio class with thick-rimmed glasses, a pocket protector and an aversion to proper hygiene has definitely seen it. It has made $223 million in two weekends of work, and its star Tobey Maguire has since been linked with everyone from Kirsten Dunst to Nicole Kidman to Joe Piscipo.
lmost exactly one year in the rearview mirror, let's face it: Weezer's Green Album stands as a major disappointment. After the breakthrough, brilliant pop of the Blue Album, the ambitious, if flawed, strumming of Pinkerton and a five-year hiatus, Weezer served its hungry fans 29 minutes of mostly lifeless, entirely disposable pop-rock that couldn't have even satisfied Calista Flockhart's less-than-voracious appetite.
Try to imagine what type of music angels play as St. Peter opens the gates of heaven.
William and Mary has a spanking new outdoor tennis facility, a four-match winning streak, the No. 11 ranking in the country and a seven-year home unbeaten streak against the Blue Devils.
Those hoping to master a skill might want to avoid Capoeira.
Never the team's standout, never even the star of a single game, fifth-year senior Matt Christensen differentiates himself from his fellow teammates by carrying himself with an uncharacteristically mature air of self-contentment.
This is a story about academe. This is a story about race. This is a story about America.
Alana Beard sits on the sidelines of Cameron Indoor Stadium doubled over with her head between her knees.
Some might call it an epiphany.
After a less than picturesque jaunt down Route 1, marked by run-down Days Inns and countless sanitarily deficient fast-food empires, the University of Maryland offers a much needed infusion of greenery.
Still down 3-1 after a Julie DeRoo victory over No. 4 Vanderbilt's Kate Burson in the semifinals of the USTA/ITA National Women's Team Indoor Championships, the Blue Devils won the first sets of two of the remaining three singles matches to swing the momentum away from the Commodores.
COLLEGE PARK, Md. -- After winning the tip, Iciss Tillis charged down to the blocks to receive an entry pass from Vicki Krapohl on the left side. Whereas Tillis normally fakes left to the baseline, then explodes to the hoop right to kiss a bank off of the glass, this time, Maryland forward Deedee Warley stripped the 6-foot-4 sophomore as she spun around, and the Terrapins capitalized with a Warley bucket on the other end.
In South Bend, Ind., last spring, the Notre Dame tennis team knelt down and took a punishing blow from a vastly superior Duke squad.
Ladies and gentlemen, from the people who brought you Jesse Owens in Munich, Cassius Clay in Rome and the U.S. hockey team's "Miracle on Ice" in Lake Placid, may I present to you the 2002 Winter Olympics.
Sometimes hatred can be the most powerful motivating force. The sheer will to decimate one's opponent can lead to remarkable results.