Good morning. I'm Renee Montagne. The FBI is a serious agency doing serious business, and apparently to conduct that business, agents need to know what ONUD stands for in the Twitter-sphere. That would be, oh, no, you didn't. A Freedom of Information request has forced the FBI to open its internal guide to shorthand on Twitter and other social media, which includes LFBBEG - looking for big, bad evil guy. It's MORNING EDITION. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
Good morning. I'm Linda Wertheimer. Schools out for millions of American kids - no more homework for a couple of months. Students in a town in central Sweden may be doing even better. The city council is debating whether to do away with homework entirely. Local officials argue that students should be able to learn everything they need during school hours and, says one, not burden their parents with it. Now there's a thought. It's MORNING EDITION. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
Cliven Bundy's ranch is just a few miles off Interstate 15 in southern Nevada, near the tiny town of Bunkerville. The dirt road that gets you there snakes through a hot and forlorn patch of desert. You know you've found it when you see a spray-painted sign for Bundy Melons.
"What we say is, we raise cows and melons and kids. That's what we do here," says Bundy, smiling as he hoses down a dusty sidewalk that leads into the family's ranch house.
If you teach an aboriginal man (or woman) to make a cappuccino, can you feed his career for a lifetime?
That's the hope at Yaama Dhiyaan, a cooking and hospitality school for at-risk indigenous young people in Australia.
Students there are learning the skills to be cooks, restaurant and hotel workers, and caterers. The school is also helping to reconnect them to their culture, disrupted when many of their grandparents were kidnapped off the land, forced into missionary schools and denied the right to vote until the 1960s.
Originally published on Tue June 17, 2014 11:16 am
She had three apartments on New York's Fifth Avenue, all filled with treasures worth millions, not to mention a mansion in Connecticut and a house in California. But the enigmatic heiress Huguette Clark lived her last 20 years in a plainly decorated hospital room — even though she wasn't sick.