Sean “Diddy” Combs’ name is being thrown into the mix of possible candidates to fill one of the empty judge’s seats on “American Idol.” The “New York Post” cites sources who say they “hear producers at the Fox show have reached out to the Bad Boy Records founder and rap mogul.” Pop superstar Mariah Carey has already claimed one of the seats left vacant by the back-to-back departures of Steven Tyler and Jennifer Lopez last month. So far, original “Idol” judge Randy Jackson is still on board but reports have suggested that his role may be changing on the show.
Jonas Brothers singer Nick Jonas confirmed over the weekend that he was in talks to take a seat on the panel. Country singer Brad Paisley and hip-hop producer Pharrell Williams are also among the names rumored to be under consideration to judge “Idol’s” 12th season.
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is a premium articleYou must be a logged in Foreign Affairs subscriber to continue reading. If you wish to continue reading this article please subscribe , or activate your online account to get full online access.Log InBuy PDFBuy a premium PDF reprint of this article.SubscribeSubscribe and get premium access to ForeignAffairs.SubscribeThe most important bilateral relationship in the world today is that between the United States and Japan. It was only 44 years ago that our two countries were at war. In the short span of time since 1945 we have constructed an enormously complex relationship that touches all aspects of both societies and much of international human endeavor. The victor and vanquished of World War II have become the cornerstones of the international economic system, together producing almost 40 percent of the world’s GNP. That all this has been accomplished in only four decades helps to explain why we find that there are still details to work out in managing this critical relationship.This relationship is of immense benefit to the peoples of both nations. The United States enjoys the support of a strong, loyal and democratic ally in the Pacific, which contributes greatly to regional peace and prosperity. Japan has the protection of the U.S. nuclear umbrella and enjoys great access to the U.S. market, the world’s largest. The two countries’ foreign policies and foreign aid programs complement and support each other. Our individual and cooperative scientific and technological achievemen
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g, and he said in a clear, shrill voice:"Papa is gone!""He went to buy your breakfast, did he not? And he told you to come and look for me here, I suppose?"Claude looked at his brother and hesitated. Then he exclaimed:"Papa has gone, I say. He jumped from the bed, put his things in his trunk, and then he carried his trunk downstairs and put it on a carriage. We saw him–he has gone!"Gervaise was kneeling, tying the boy’s shoe. She rose slowly with a very white face and with her hands pressed to either temple, as if she were afraid of her head cracking open. She could say nothing but the same words over and over again:"Great God! Great God! Great God!"Mme Boche, in her turn, interrogated the child eagerly, for she was charmed at finding herself an actor, as it were, in this drama."Tell us all about it, my dear. He locked the door, did he? And then he told you to bring the key here?" And then, lowering her voice, she whispered in the child’s ear:"Was there a lady in the carriage?" she asked.The child looked troubled for a moment but speedily began his story again with a triumphant air."He jumped off the bed, put his things in the trunk, and he went away."Then as Mme Boche made no attempt to detain him, he drew his brother to the faucet, where the two amused themselves in making the water run.Gervaise could not weep. She felt as if she were stifling. She covered her face with her hands and turned toward the wall. A sharp, nervous tr
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persons who are to have audience of the Pope are passed on from the servants to the Noble Guards, from the Noble Guards to the honorary /Camerieri/, and from the latter to the /Camerieri segreti/, until they at last reach the presence of the Holy Father. At eight o’clock, however, the ante-rooms empty and become both deserted and dim, only a few lamps being left alight upon the pier tables standing here and there against the walls.And first Pierre came to the ante-room of the /bussolanti/, mere ushers clad in red velvet broidered with the papal arms, who conduct visitors to the door of the ante-room of honour. At that late hour only one of them was left there, seated on a bench in such a dark corner that his purple tunic looked quite black. Then the Hall of the Gendarmes was crossed, where according to the regulations the secretaries of cardinals and other high personages await their masters’ return; and this was now completely empty, void both of the handsome blue uniforms with white shoulder belts and the cassocks of fine black cloth which mingled in it during the brilliant reception hours. Empty also was the following room, a smaller one reserved to the Palatine Guards, who are recruited among the Roman middle class and wear black tunics with gold epaulets and shakoes surmounted by red plumes. Then Pierre and his guide turned into another series of apartments, and again was the first one empty. This was the Hall of the Arras, a superb waiting-room with lofty painted ceiling and admirable Gobeli
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boys: Pakistan ees a stain on the face of India!”Ho ho,’ the class laughs, ‘Absolute master joke, sir!’But now my nose has had enough; staging its own, unprompted revolt against the grasping thumb-and-forefinger, it unleashes a weapon of its own … a large blob of shining goo emerges from the left nostril, to plop into Mr Zagallo’s palm.Fat Perce Fishwala yells, ‘Lookit that, sir! The drip from his nose, sir! Is that supposed to be Ceylon?’His palm smeared with goo, Zagallo loses his jokey mood. ‘Animal,’ he curses me, ‘You see what you do?’ Zagallo’s hand releases my nose; returns to hair. Nasal refuse is wiped into my neatly-parted locks. And now, once again, my hair is seized; once again, the hand is pulling… but upwards now, and my head has jerked upright, my feet are moving on to tiptoe, and Zagallo, ‘What are you?Tell me what you are!”Sir an animal sir!’The hand pulls harder higher. ‘Again.’ Standing on my toenails now, I yelp: ‘Aiee sir an animal an animal please sir aiee!’And still harder and still higher … ‘Once more!’ But suddenly it ends; my feet are flat on the ground again; and the class has fallen into a deathly hush.’Sir,’ Sonny Ibrahim is saying, ‘you pulled his hair out, sir.’And now the cacophony: ‘Look sir, blood.’ ‘He’s bleeding sir.1 ‘Please sir shall I take him to the nurse?’Mr Zagallo stood like a statue with a clump of my hair in his fist. While I – too shocked to feel any pain – felt the patch on my head where Mr Zagallo had created a monkish tonsure, a circle where
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d not have been surprised if they had invited her to the chapter-house for that purpose. To her circle of untravelled ladies, ignorant of Murray, but laudably desirous of information, all Ellinor’s historical reminiscences and rather formal details were really interesting. There was no railroad in those days between Lyons and Marseilles, so their progress was slow, and the passage of letters to and fro, when they had arrived in Rome, long and uncertain. But all seemed going on well. Ellinor spoke of herself as in better health; and Canon Livingstone (between whom and Miss Monro great intimacy had sprung up since Ellinor had gone away, and Miss Monro could ask him to tea) confirmed this report of Miss Wilkins’s health from a letter which he had received from Mrs. Forbes. Curiosity about that letter was Miss Monro’s torment. What could they have had to write to each other about? It was a very odd proceeding; although the Livingstones and Forbeses were distantly related, after the manner of Scotland. Could it have been that he had offered to Euphemia, after all, and that her mother had answered; or, possibly, there was a letter from Effie herself, enclosed. It was a pity for Miss Monro’s peace of mind that she did not ask him straight away. She would then have learnt what Canon Livingstone had no thought of concealing, that Mrs. Forbes had written solely to give him some fuller directions about certain charities than she had had time to think about in the hurry of starting. As it was, and when, a litt
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dministration does not appear to have been as corrupt as its predecessors. Obviously, we won’t know for a few months or years until the new administration takes the reigns and begins to open the books. However, does any really think that Colom and his administration were able to embezzle nearly half a million dollars with CICIG looking over their shoulders? If so, the CICIG experiment needs to pack its bags and go home.The Colom administration might have been corrupt in many ways. However, it’s tough to agree with El Periodico’seditorialthat concluded that Colom’s legacy to the country is corruption.MONITOR QUIZ:Think you know Latin America? Test your geography knowledge.Get daily or weekly updates from CSMonitor delivered to your inbox.Sign up today.The Christian Science Monitor has assembled a diverse group of Latin America bloggers. Our guest bloggers are not employed or directed by the Monitor and the views expressed are the bloggers’ own, as is responsibility for the content of their blogs. To contact us about a blogger, click here.I thought that Mr. Colom was going to leave the final decision up to the upcoming president, but I can’t really find that link anymore. He also said that he would wait until the legal process in Guatemala had been exhausted before acting. Portillo was cleared of charges in Guatemala earlier this year. He and his lawyers then challenged his extradition in Guatemala’s courts, including the Supreme Court of Justice and the Constitutional Court. Those decisions cleared
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r feathers–if it prevail throughout many and different species, especially those having very different habits of life, it assumes high value; for we can account for its presence in so many forms with such different habits, only by its inheritance from a common parent. We may err in this respect in regard to single points of structure, but when several characters, let them be ever so trifling, occur together throughout a large group of beings having different habits, we may feel almost sure, on the theory of descent, that these characters have been inherited from a common ancestor. And we know that such correlated or aggregated characters have especial value in classification.We can understand why a species or a group of species may depart, in several of its most important characteristics, from its allies, and yet be safely classed with them. This may be safely done, and is often done, as long as a sufficient number of characters, let them be ever so unimportant, betrays the hidden bond of community of descent. Let two forms have not a single character in common, yet if these extreme forms are connected together by a chain of intermediate groups, we may at once infer their community of descent, and we put them all into the same class. As we find organs of high physiological importance–those which serve to preserve life under the most diverse conditions of existence–are generally the most constant, we attach especial value to them; but if these same organs, in another group or section of a group,
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n in Europe was about to add to itself sea power strong enough to neutralize British sea power. The United States was also rising steadily to the rank of a Great Power. As yet, however, its rise could be measured only in statistical tables; although in my childhood someone had already been impressed with American resourcefulness, for I remember in our schoolroom a picture of the battle between the Merrimac and the Monitor, the first armored ship and the first turret ship. Thus Germany and the United States came up alongside of Britain and Russia…This is a premium articleYou must be a logged in Foreign Affairs subscriber to continue reading. If you wish to continue reading this article please subscribe , or activate your online account to get full online access.Log InBuy PDFBuy a premium PDF reprint of this article.SubscribeSubscribe and get premium access to ForeignAffairs.SubscribeI HAVE been asked to carry further some of the themes with which I have dealt in my past writings, in particular to consider whether my strategical concept of a "Heartland" has lost any of its significance under the conditions of modern warfare. In order to set the concept into its context, I must begin with a short account of how it originally came to take shape.My earliest memory of public affairs goes back to the day in September 1870 when, as a small boy who had just begun attendance at the local grammar school, I took home the news, which I had learned from a telegram affixed to the post office door, tha
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quot;poor fellow." He went past quickly, and calling for his horse, mounted gaily, and rode away. He was anxious to be in time to have a look and a smile from lovely Mary Barton, as she went to Miss Simmonds’. But to-day he was to be disappointed. Wilson left the house, not knowing whether to be pleased or grieved. It was long to Monday, but they had all spoken kindly to him, and who could tell if they might not remember this, and do something before Monday. Besides, the cook, who, when she had had time to think, after breakfast was sent in, had noticed his paleness, had had meat and bread ready to put in his hand when he came out of the parlour; and a full stomach makes every one of us more hopeful.When he reached Berry Street, he had persuaded himself he bore good news, and felt almost elated in his heart. But it fell when he opened the cellar-door, and saw Barton and the wife both bending over the sick man’s couch with awestruck, saddened look."Come here," said Barton. "There’s a change comed over him sin’ yo left, is there not?"Wilson looked. The flesh was sunk, the features prominent, bony, and rigid. The fearful clay-colour of death was over all. But the eyes were open and sensitive, though the films of the grave were settling upon them."He wakened fra’ his sleep, as yo left him in, and began to mutter and moan; but he soon went off again, and we never knew he were awake till he called his wife, but now she’s here he’s gotten nought to say to her."Most proba
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uo;the commission was given to James and he rode to Sutherlandtown to perform it. But it was on the day when he was accustomed to write to you, and he was not easy in his mind, for he feared he would miss sending you his usual letter. When, therefore, he came to the hotel and saw me in Philemon’s room — I was often there in those days, often without Philemon’s knowing it — he saw, or thought he did, a way out of his difficulties. Entering where I was, he explained to me his errand, and we being then — though never, alas! since — one in everything but the secret hopes he enjoyed, he asked me if I would go in his stead to Mr. Orr’s room, present my credentials, and obtain the money while he wrote the letter with which his mind was full. Though my jealousy was aroused and I hated the letter he was about to write, I did not see how I could refuse him; so after receiving such credentials as he himself carried, and getting full instructions how to proceed, I left him writing at Philemon’s table and hastened down the hall to the door he had pointed out. If Providence had been on the side of guilt, the circumstances could not have been more favourable for the deception I afterwards played. No one was in the hall, no one was with Mr. Orr to note that it was I instead of James who executed Mr. Gilchrist’s commission. But I was thinking of no deception then. I proceeded quite innocently on my errand, and when the feeble voice of the invalid bade me enter,
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When I finally pulled myself together, I knew what I had to do. With shaking hand, I wrote two letters: the one you’re holding in your hand right now, and one to Catherine, in which I finally said my good-bye. Today, I’m taking Happenstance out to send it to her, as I have with all the others. It will be my last letter-Catherine, in her own way, has told me to go on, and I have chosen to listen. Not only to her words, but also to the leanings of my heart that led me back to you.Oh, Theresa, I am sorry, so very sorry, that I ever hurt you. I am coming to Boston next week with the hope that you find a way to forgive me. Maybe I’m too late now. I don’t know.Theresa, I love you and always will. I am tired of being alone. I see children crying and laughing as they play in the sand, and I realize I want to have children with you. I want to watch Kevin as he grows into a man. I want to hold your hand and see you cry when he finally takes a bride, I want to kiss you when his dreams come true. I will move to Boston if you ask because I cannot go on this way. I am sick and sad without you. As I sit here in the kitchen, I am praying that you will let me come back to you, this time forever.GarrettIt was dusk now, and the gray sky was turning dark quickly. Though she’d read the letter a thousand times, it still aroused the same feelings she’d had when she’d first read it. For the past year, those feelings had stalked her every waking moment.Sitting on the beach, she tried once again to imagine him as he wrote
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is is a premium articleYou must be a logged in Foreign Affairs subscriber to continue reading. If you wish to continue reading this article please subscribe , or activate your online account to get full online access.Log InBuy PDFBuy a premium PDF reprint of this article.SubscribeSubscribe and get premium access to ForeignAffairs.SubscribeIN recent years, the battle between the planners and the anti-planners has become fairly engaged. In the decade before the recent war, the planners tended — in Britain at least — to hold the field of popular theoretical writing and of polemical literature. But since the appearance during the war of Professor Hayek's book, "The Road to Serfdom," a vigorous counterattack has been launched and a number of recent British books on economics have taken the anti-planning side. The debate is being conducted on the whole in terms of forceful dogmatism, and this is not surprising when one remembers how easy it is to be dogmatic about the theoretical basis of a case.In theory, the planners can claim that they are in the full stream of human progress. What has created the tremendous physical advances of the last century if not man's increasing scientific control over his environment? The masterpieces of modern engineering have all started with the blueprint. Is it not reasonable to argue that the same methods — of plans and blueprints and "social engineering" — will not have equally happy results when society itself is their raw material? To
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fleeting and must be considered base. But the snares of the Enemy are infinite, and I confess that this reference to my comeliness, though mendacious, fell sweetly on my ears and filled me with an irrepressible emotion. Especially since the girl, in saying this, had extended her hand until the tips of her fingers grazed my cheek, then quite beardless. I felt a kind of delirium, but at that moment I was unable to sense any hint of sin in my heart. Such is the force of the Devil when he wants to try us and dispel from our spirit the signs of grace.What did I feel? What did I see? I remember only that the emotions of the first moment were bereft of any expression, because my tongue and my mind had not been instructed in how to name sensations of that sort. Until I recalled other inner words, heard in an?other time and in other places, spoken certainly for other ends, but which seemed wondrously in keeping with my joy in that moment, as if they had been born consubstantially to express it. Words pressed into the caverns of my memory rose to the (dumb) surface of my lips, and I forgot that they had served in Scripture or in the pages of the saints to express quite different, more radiant realities. But was there truly a difference between the delights of which the saints had spoken and those that my agitated spirit was feeling at that moment? At that moment the watchful sense of differ?ence was annihilated in me. And this, it seems to me, is precisely the sign of rapture in the abysses of identity.Sudd
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