Word: caligulan
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...sexual environment does sometimes loosen up in ant colonies. While the place may never become a Caligulan free-for-all, collective breeding will resume if the queen dies or is experimentally removed - but only until a new queen establishes herself and the reproductive lockdown resumes...
...Since that year, though, there has apparently been exactly one stimulating pre-Game corroboree, which came in 2005. The Crimson recap quotes football coach Tim Murphy as stunned that disinterested undergraduates had thrown together the event, and generally conveys a confused introduction to school spirit in all its Caligulan, stuffed-bulldog-shredding fervor. Justin H. Haan ’05, then fun czar, was triumphal, proclaiming his organization as “all about…reviving a Harvard tradition...
...Smith was inspired as a kid by the Scheherezade schlock of B-movie queen Maria Montez. As a director, he renamed one of his drag stars Mario Montez and starred him in no-budget avant-garde movies of delirious (and now endearing) Caligulan excess. Both Mario and Jack went to work for Andy Warhol, who called Smith "the only person I would ever copy. He?s just so terrific, and I think he makes the best movies." Warhol?s Factory and the films that emerged from it - Chelsea Girls and the rest - might not have existed without Smith?s influence...
...blood-drenched career, Saddam has acted truly, not metaphorically, satanic. It is reported, credibly, that in the evening, before bed, he has been in the habit of watching a video of an execution that he ordered, preferably one carried out that day. He is apparently conscienceless, a murderer of Caligulan whimsy. In August 1979, during a purge of his Baath Party, Saddam arranged this scene, reported by a former Iraqi Cabinet member: "The party officials were handed machine guns. One by one the guards brought in the accused, their mouths taped shut, and their hands bound. Saddam asked everyone...
...from the "flickering flames" of "Blonde Aphrodite." The unidentified soprano soloist thrilled us with another seismic performance whose beauty might be compared to an autumnal wheat field methodically bending to the breeze. Mr. Dello Joio, whose star has been rising ever since his epochal Air Power brought home the Caligulan glory of the air force to the musically thirsty, seems to have made little musical progress since that Curtis Lemay extravaganza. His To St. Cecilia was an exciting grotesque written in his consummately banal idiom featuring vapid stentorian outbursts for a brass ensemble and Victory at Sea-type arching melodies...
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