Magazine July 18, 2011, Issue

Smoke Alarm

(U.S. Department of Health and Human Services)
The nanny state’s ghoulish new cigarette labels

Here is an image for you: The gray pall of a middle-aged woman on her deathbed, her hairless head the synecdoche of a body racked by tumors. She is all colorless lips, sunken cheeks, and frail hands hugging too-prominent clavicles, empty eyes casting a thousand-yard stare, perhaps at the dread visage of the Reaper himself.

Here’s another: a waist-up shot of dead man, mouth agape and naked on the stainless-steel dissection slab of some morgue, complete with the freshly stapled “Y-incision” that is the tell-tale of a recent autopsy running the length of his sternum. How about a tight shot of

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Rep. Michele Bachmann regularly gives GOP leaders heartburn, rapping them for cutting spending deals with the White House.

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