I'm not a big fan of government-binding syntactic theory in its extremes, but I still don't see why Chomsky is filed under prescriptivism. He is not a prescriptivist, or even a lousy commafucker (that last phrase courtesy of Fred Landman, formerly of Cornell University).

Yet just as, in opposition to the majority, I admired Fosse's Nightsongs and The Girl On The Sofa, so I found myself absorbed by this 70-minute play; and, whatever it may mean, there is no denying the production's visual bravura.

I had a certain grim pleasure in reading letters from two or three literary men, asking for work ‘as secretary or companion,’ or failing that, for the loan of a little cash to ‘tide over present difficulties.’

The X-Men films have made an explicit connection between the mutants’ powers and pubescent self-discovery, but perhaps it’s necessary to address the last few movies’ psychosexual subtext.