Word: barke
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...only worry is over the day the boss might bark: "You're fired! Turn in your clothes!" Fidelity has thought of that. An employee who stays on for a year can keep his uniform on leaving. Except for the crest. The code says that the crest must be surrendered. But it won't be easy, turning in that good old golden...
...turned out, the Bulldog's bark was a good deal worse than his bite. At an even 4 miles, the Harvard-Yale crew race is the longest in the U.S.-more than three times as long as the Eastern Sprints. Yale's strategy, explained Hathaway, was to "stick with them in the first mile and pressure them afterward." Yale could have used more mucilage. At the end of a mile, the Bulldogs trailed by half a length; after two miles, Harvard's margin was up to three boat lengths. Rowing mostly at a steady 33 strokes...
...narrative pace is numbing, its style is deafening, its language penny dreadful. All the characters whirl like dervishes, especially Dirk Struan, a kind of Scottish superman who can borrow $5,000,000 in silver ingots from an Oriental tycoon, invent binoculars, and corner the world supply of cinchona bark, all without breathing very hard. Well, almost. His Scots accent wavers a bit under stress: "Damned if he'll get away with it, Will! He'll no get awa' with...
...drug's unrestrained use. Many psychiatrists agree. Among the examples they cite: an average of twelve LSD "bad trip" victims a month land, out of their minds, in New York's Bellevue Hospital; two LSD-using youths were discovered in Hollywood last October devouring grass and tree bark; a college student went berserk on an airliner bound from Los Angeles to San Francisco, tried to force his way into the pilot's cockpit before being subdued, a young male user in Los Angeles tried to stop a car on Wilshire Boulevard by saying "Halt...
...Green Lagoon, is hyperbole. A ragged hamlet located about 15 miles from the Haitian border, it is the home of 500-odd campesinos who scratch out a living by growing maize and rice in sun-baked clay that scarcely tolerates thorny scrub and cactus. Inside the Marichal bohio (palm-bark walls, thatched roof, oddments of homemade furniture), a nine-year-old boy sprawls shirtless on the concrete floor, unraveling the thread from an old silk stocking. With infinite care, he winds the thread round and round a scrap of rubber until he has a ball about 9 in. in circumference...