Word: archings
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That night in the Los Angeles Coliseum, Poole witnesses the rites of "purification" of Belial Eve and the beginning of the mating season at California's biggest celebration: Belial Day. "His Eminence, the Arch-Vicar of Belial, Lord of the Earth, Primate of California, Servant of the Proletariat, Bishop of Hollywood," explains to Poole that the triumph of his lord was assured by the rise of two doctrines during the pre-atom era: "Progress and Nationalism . . . the theory that Utopia lies just ahead and that, since ideal ends justify the most abominable means, it is your privilege and duty...
...weeks the Chief and the Arch-Vicar encourage the most indiscriminate promiscuity so that the state may gain manpower; afterwards, when the helots are put to work, all sexual contact is strictly forbidden. Poole is urged to join the California priesthood, which can be done by submitting to an operation that will forever remove potency. But in the meantime Poole has discovered a luscious vessel named Loola, who has taught him a few things. Preferring Loola to eunuch lordship, Poole escapes from Los Angeles towards a lonely northern outpost where, it is rumored, men are still...
Under John Bracken, the P.C.s had tried to stable western progressives in the same stalls with eastern arch-Tories. It did not work. They had ended with a lacklustre program, not liberal enough to steal votes from Mackenzie King, not conservative enough for right-wingers. Last week many Conservative bigwigs were pinning their party's main hopes on a tested Tory, big, handsome Premier George Drew of Ontario. So far, the only other contender in sight was Saskatchewan's John George Diefenbaker, Tory gadfly of Parliament...
...manager of the New York Giants, had thrown in the sponge. Leo Durocher, who was hated worse by Giant fans than any living man, had resigned as manager of the arch-rival Brooklyn Dodgers-to take over Ott's job. Soft-spoken old Burt Shotton had soft-shoed back from exile to take over the Dodgers...
...Lighted Sparkler. The Pennsylvania Railroad's grey-haired President Martin W. Clement, an arch-Republican, asked Democratic bigwigs to a garden party at the fashionable Merion Cricket Club. But the party seemed oddly like a waxworks exhibition. There, bowing and smiling and real as life, were scores of famous men who had already been politically embalmed...