Word: boredoms
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...belly" that he was and became famous in films. But his agent, promoting a new image, advised: "Stay out of trouble, stay out of the nightclubs, and you'll be a second Ronnie Colman." Hubie did. He went so straight that his wife took to adultery out of boredom. And then there was a divorce, and a couple more marriages-all crammed onto the last two pages as O'Hara's chronicle dribbles to a stop. Hubie Ward was the frankest of phonies, but the moral is, or so the author says, that "people know when...
Diplomacy by Boredom. Adenauer's outburst was due at least partly to frustration by the fact that he no longer enjoys in Washington the close ties and strong influence he had in the days of John Foster Dulles. Moreover, Adenauer has never concealed his disdain for the "defensivist" theory on Russia; its advocates hold that negotiations with Moscow are necessary because Nikita Khrushchev is essentially on the defensive, desperately wants to stabilize his position in Eastern Europe, and, given "reasonable" terms by the West, will bargain seriously for an agreement to abate the cold war. Adenauer calls the Berlin...
Sonar for Boredom. Dr. Colin Cherry, 48, professor of telecommunication at London's Imperial College of Science and Technology, and Psychologist Neville Moray of Sheffield University got interested in the cocktail-party problem through their studies on the directional nature of human hearing. They kept their eyes and ears open at cocktail parties, but did their actual sound research in the laboratory-the cocktail parties were too noisy. They discovered that the seasoned partygoer does not face the person he is listening to, but turns only one ear toward him, while using the other ear as if it were...
When the sands were running out, he answered his own question as to what Fascism was all about: "One could call it irrationalism." But the irrational leads to boredom when it does not also lead to crime. All the frenetic posturing of Fascism led to Mussolini's last desperate apathy-almost torpor-and his meat-shop death. Mussolini's articulate explorations of his own dilemma give an awful fascination to Hibbert's history. In the end, it makes it possible to pity the Fascist dictator in a way that no one has ever pitied Hitler...
Quick color in the muddled crowd: a pretty girl in tight blue pants runs at top speed through the Paris square and disappears. Her passage stirs eddies of emotion. For a traffic policeman boredom dissipates briefly; he lusts sharply and happily. A woman sneers contemptuously; obviously the girl is a slut, because quite apparently she is wearing no brassiere. A plainclothes detective on a stake-out forgets his ambush to gawk; an aging homosexual glances at the girl in envy; a bookstore owner obsessed with the past history of this quarter of Paris barely sees the girl as she passes...