Word: beers
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...daily bags of mail from all over the U.S., addressed simply: "G.I. Joe, Viet Nam." A high school in New York State is raising money to send a G.I. wife to a Christmas reunion with her husband in Hong Kong or Manila. An offer of 500 cases of beer from a Cincinnati labor union was regretfully declined by the Defense Department. Gratefully accepted was a continuing flood tide of blood donations from thousands of students at more than 60 campuses from Appalachia to Austria...
...latest victims were an ex-con, a bartender, and a box-factory worker. No one could tell why the ex-con or the bartender had been killed. But John B. O'Neil, 26, a Navy veteran and father of four, was innocently sipping a beer at the bar when two gunmen entered and cut down the bartender. As a memento, they also pumped five shots into O'Neil...
Rhodesia is already feeling the first effects of the economic siege. To compensate for the import duties that it will lose, the government last week sharply raised taxes on domestic beer, whisky and tobacco. South African banks, on which the Rhodesians had counted as allies, temporarily stopped trading in Rhodesian pounds because of the uncertainty. The United Nations, which has never imposed economic sanctions on any nation last week recommended an oil embargo on Rhodesia and the U.S. announced it will not accept Rhodesian sugar...
...never stopped looking at New York through hillbilly eyes," says Tom Wolfe, one plump pinkie gracefully arched as he fastidiously sips beer in the CRIMSON sanctum. "My grandfather fought in the Civil War for God's sake... Yes." Virginia born, he doesn't look much like a redneck in the custom made three-piece herringbone suit, in the custom-made white on white silk shirt with little diamonds, in the silk foulard and tie or side buckle shoes. Even less so when dressed for the street, another silk foulard peeping jauntily out of the breast pocket of his Chesterfield...
Most of the male fans were friendlier than the coach, however, at least as the game and the beer were nearing an end. "We want cartwheels!" was the cry. We compiled, feeling pretty proud of ourselves until a small boy called out from the stands, "My grandmother could do better than that!" Such boys were, for the most part, completely unimpressed. "Would you girls get out of the way? We came to see the game...