Word: berets
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...survived or martyrs. Malcolm X and Che Guevera became symbols of the age. Again and again, the words of these two figures could be found in pamphlets, in underground newspapers, in conversation. The young not only kept posters on their walls, but copied the hair, the beard, the beret and the style. The cult of failure spread...
...Paris embassy at 12 Avenue du Président Kennedy for lunch. Strolling along the right bank of the Seine toward his blue sedan, he failed to notice two men wearing sunglasses, who picked up stride behind him. Suddenly, one of them, a husky six-footer in a beret, caught up. He pulled out a 7.65-mm. pistol and fired three shots at point-blank range, hitting Zenteno in the head and back. As the killers ran away, the ambassador fell dead to the sidewalk...
...propagating his own legend than Montgomery himself. From his early, loveless childhood, he sought his outlet in domination through leadership-first in sports, then in battle. During World War II, his unflagging confidence combined with a gift for showmanship gave Britons a needed boost in morale. His trademark beret and scruffy turtlenecks, as well as his jut-jawed, wisecracking impatience with routine, became international emblems of the tough, get-the-job-done spirit of the Allied war effort...
With self-important earnestness, Domecq ticks off a whole catalogue of such deluded poseurs. There is F.J.C. Loomis, whose dislike of metaphors leads him to compose-laboriously-one-word poems (Domecq explains that his "Beret" had a poor reception, "perhaps attributable to the demands it makes on the reader of having to learn French"). There is Santiago Ginsberg, a poet who assigns private meanings to public words ("mailbox," to him, translates as "accidental, fortuitous, incompatible with a cosmos"). Adalberto Vilaseco devotes his career to publishing the same poem under different titles. Forbidden by his religion from drawing likenesses...
...ultimate success on Sunset Boulevard, the tenderest thing he can tell his tearful Mama is "You're a funny lady, Ma." Larry did not need New York to corrupt him; detachment and glib posturing must have come easily to him even before he bought his first authentic-looking French beret. Still, the image would be all right if Mazursky did not spoil the effect by having his mother reply, "My life has not been very funny." Something lurks beneath this array of facades, but Mazursky will never let us see what is there...