Word: butts
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...held up to the light like talismans, small shards of some awful psychic puzzle. A pudgy Georgia-born ex-security guard from Hawaii named Mark David Chapman fired his shots at Lennon from what the police call "combat stance": in a stiff crouch, one hand wrapped around the butt of his newly purchased revolver, the other around his wrist to steady it. As Lennon took six staggering steps, Chapman, 25, simply stood still, and then went with the arresting officers like a model citizen who had been unfairly rousted on a traffic bust. Chapman's personal history showed...
...working my butt off," the Scholar-athlete admits. But he's not complaining. Nor is Gardiner, who says she thought classes would be "more inspiring." As Rachel Berkovits points out, there is an advantage to doing a little work and still getting decent grades. "It's fun. I'm getting away with doing a lot less work than in high school...
...with roughly the same material: life, odd and otherwise, in small towns of the rural South. Given this common starting point, comparisons of the three were probably inevitable, but they also were, and remain, misleading. Each looked at the South in a different way. Faulkner saw the tailings and butt ends of a long tragic myth; O'Connor perceived a gallery of grotesques testing the limits of God's mercy to man. Welty concentrated instead on ordinary people, on "the thing that makes them what they are in themselves, their secret life, their memory of the past, their...
...house with him near the University of Southern California campus, Meeker was chatting with her about his girlfriend, Linda Jason, 21, of Fresno. He casually plucked from the wall over his bed a short-barreled .410 gauge shotgun. Sitting with legs folded in the lotus position, Meeker rested the butt of the gun on his ankles, pointed the barrel at his face and began loading and unloading a shell...
Last Saturday was Butt-fucker's birthday. Everyone was chasing him around the House. "C'mon Butt-fucker," they screeched, "time for your BIRTHday present..." Eventually he tired, and they caught him, appropriately down near the boiler room. With well-practiced teamwork, five of them grabbed him like a cord of firewood and hustled him out into the middle of Beacon Street, where he received two rounds of boisterous "Happy Birthday" and 21 solid whacks from an official House paddling board. Laughing, they filed back inside to shower down for another Saturday night formal dinner at an MIT fraternity...