About being capable of feeling great affection

I hate everything about the way this guy looks: the golf shirt tucked into his "nice jeans," leaving just enough give to hip-swivel 20 degrees (engineered and tested before leaving the house); his low-profile sunglasses; and his perma-shape pompadour, three shades above black, a bubble blown from a sharp part. This turd aspires to fitness without strain. Jeremy. Jeremy thinks calling his boss "boss" boosts his ego, and Jeremy likes exercising that little bit of control over his superior's emotions. Doing so also, he thinks, curries favor.

a cat

... but not on this one

She died, her wing on her young

Another picture post

Worried traders

Every time stock market indices drop X amount of points and make headlines, media gives us "worried trader" pictures--guys covering their mouths or rubbing their temples with faces turned up in disbelieving horror or down in dejection. In a sense, this is a non-story because the market is a bet and it goes on everyday. This practice of recycling the "worried trader" is akin to putting front page a candid photo of the defeated gambler sweatily clutching his tickets after Thursday's horse races.

If the market stayed down, the story is serious as it addresses 401Ks and whatnot. In this case an appropriate image might depict those who are very wealthy and doing well during the recession so that they can be the spectacle instead of the struggling waitress or homeless former federal worker.