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Breaking: Shade Cool! Sun Hot!

The heat has everyone at the Post a little woozy. How else to explain yesterday's lead Style section essay?


[L]et us consider that shade, descendant of Middle English's sceadu, is the land between light and dark. It is the world of in-between in which meaning is determined by the degree of diminished light. There is shade, the good girl of daylight and cool breezes. Then there is her naughty sister, shadow, that which makes dark things possible, some of them alluring in spite of their danger. Or maybe because of.
Yes, an essay about shade. Do you think this means we won't get an essay about shadow, the naughty sister? We're hoping they're still on track for the upcoming essays about ice, cool breezes, and talcum powder (and talcum powder's naughty sister, chalk!).

Fading Into the Shade [WP]

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It's the night before the two-night Democratic primary debate extravaganza, and we're already tired. Turns out having 20 candidates spread across two nights when only six or eight of them matter is not the must-see TV we all thought it was going to be! But that's not to dissuade you from getting excited! We're excited! We're so excited! We're so ...

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SCARED!

In case you need a reminder, here is how it's going to go down:

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Lately he's been blowing smoke from another orifice.

After a cursory examination of the TWELVE filings in the case against California Congressman Duncan Hunter just in the past 24 hours, we can confidently declare that that guy is a fucking idiot. The prosecutors have him by every last one of his short and curlies -- which is what happens when you use your campaign credit card to pay for hundreds of thousands of dollars of ski trips, video games, tuition, and plane tickets for the family rabbit.

A rational human being would have pleaded down a year ago and given up his congressional seat, since he could cash out and make a lot more money as a lobbyist anyway. But not Duncan Hunter! He made the federal government chase him down and document every last carton of cigarettes, round of tequila, and Uber ride of shame home from his many girlfriends' houses in a 60-count indictment filed last August. And still this dumb sumbitch refused to admit he was caught, even after his lovely wife (and co-conspirator) Margaret Hunter flipped on him this month -- which is what happens when you use your campaign credit card to carry on multiple affairs and you piss off the US Attorneys enough that they put every 7 a.m. Uber ride in your indictment.

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