Word: butts
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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ZOMO troops are well equipped with machine guns, bazookas, armored vehicles and helicopters. But their favorite weapon is often sheer muscle. Says a British diplomat: "They're exceptionally tough and brutal. I saw three ZOMO thugs beat a striking worker in Warsaw with the butt end of their automatic rifles until both his arms and legs had been broken...
...might not be astounding that some would prefer that laymen butt out of this area and leave the politicians and think-tank strategists to their numbers game. On Saturday, The Crimson printed an Opinion Page article by Kennedy School research associate Stephen M. Walt, who argues that mass teach-ins foster "oversimplified and ultimately erroneous" conceptions that "may make matters worse" in the struggle for disarmament. His reasoning aptly flaunts the dangers inherent when specialists lose perspective on the task confronting them...
First, there was the Princeton game of '79, in which Scheper scored his only touchdown of the season. "It was a trap play right over my brother's butt." Scheper says. "I gave him the ball afterward. That was such a big thrill for me." Second, there was Harvard's amazing 22-7 upset win over undefeated Yale in New Haven. "I was more excited for Dave than anything else," Scheper says...
Woollcott was born in Redbank, New Jersey in 1887 to a tenacious mother and a slovenly father, and at his mother's insistence, attended Hamilton College. There his flamboyance and decidedly eccentric manner made him the butt of many jokes, until he founded a dramatic society, where his behavior seemed excusable. A "hormonal imbalance" prevented sexual activity, and he readily channeled his energy to food, literary criticism, and the theater. When he graduated he presented himself at the New York Times, and was hired as a staff reporter after six months...
MUCH OF THE SECOND HALF is devoted to a dramatic reading of Woollcott's criticism, an enviable talent he sharpened on the heads of playwrights, actors, friends, and other critics. Finding himself the butt of a rival's column, Woollcott retorted, "An empty taxi pulled up in front of the theater and George Gene Nathan got out." In a review of a play called Number 7, the playwright, he wrote, "has misjudged by five." In another, he suggested that "the lead actor be gently, but firmly, shot at dawn." Yet, he was as lavish in his praise...