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...public. India's debate, for example, was set off when a government censorship commission recommended that "if in telling a story it is relevant to depict a passionate kiss or a nude figure," moviemakers should do so. After all, the commission noted, Indian directors never hesitate to feature bump-and-grind girly dances so provocative that they "may almost be called the performance of a unilateral act of coitus." The argument impressed few Indians; in a recent poll, 75% opposed kissing and nudity in films-this in the land of the Kama Sutra and the world's most...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Asia: Beyond the Blue Horizon | 10/17/1969 | See Source »

...Friday starting today the third floor of the Union will be transformed into a happy hunting ground. With rock music blaring in the background so they can't and won't have to talk, Summer School and Harvard-Radcliffe students will mix, dance, and bump together in blissful bacchanalation...

Author: By Otto E. Rotique, | Title: Doing Your Own Thing? | 8/1/1969 | See Source »

...Arab pickpockets specialize in port cities. They use razors to slit back pockets of tourists in bars. They bump up against people brusquely, with no finesse...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Travel: Pickpocket Season | 6/20/1969 | See Source »

Michael, perhaps the most "anxious queer' of them all, uses the game as a device to make all the others share in the self-hatred he feels at being a homosexual. While he hopes that "not all faggots bump themselves off at the end of the story," he cannot escape his conviction that misery is all he will ever know ("Show me a happy homosexual and I'll show you a gray corpse"). He places his final hopes on the possibility that even seemingly straight Alan is in reality a "closet queer," unhappy like the rest of them...

Author: By Frank Rich, | Title: The Boys in the Band | 5/9/1969 | See Source »

...excess. So, as the ski-doo started to roar, and Tim drove off wildly--almost hysterically--into the mist, the forest, the hills, I was scared. Trees appeared out of nowhere; the cold air slapped me in the face at every turn. Soon, after a bump that sent me a foot in the air, I lost my grip and fell into the snow. As Tim went zoomnig off without me, I sank into the ice. I tried to get up, and I tripped. Twenty or 30 yards later, he realized what had happened. I got up and stumbled towards...

Author: By Frank Rich, | Title: The Ghosts of New Hampshire | 4/10/1969 | See Source »

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