Word: caving
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...retrospect, items 2 and 3 should be especially gratifying for a people who spend so much time worrying about the quality of their collective character. Two years ago, the President's victory seemed to beckon every junior demagogue from his cave and crevice. Oh, the seething and panting of the NCPAC hit squads, the rough stuff of Jesse Helms. No more. Hardly a "right-wing kook," as they are dangerously dismissed, won national election last week. Neither, for that matter, did a left-wing kook. Wherever else the body politic has wandered lately, it seems now to wish...
...rats led him to theories about stress, which he explored in 33 books (including Stress Without Distress, 1974). The body's physical response to stress-alarm, resistance and exhaustion-can cause disease and death, Selye demonstrated. He contended that modern humans are no more its victims than were cave dwellers and suggested that by learning to control stress "people could live past...
...millions of people . . . destined to become 'Epcot travelers.' " Visitors enter through a building that is already a symbol of the center: an 18-story geosphere called Spaceship Earth. Inside they are whisked along a track to view a depiction of man's evolution in communications from cave to spaceship, glimpsing such wonders as Gutenberg's print shop, an Audio-Animatronic Alexander Graham Bell inventing the telephone, and astronauts at work...
...huile-l'huile et le vinaigre des étoiles " (the star of vinegar and oil, the oil and vinegar of the stars). Newman, a man for all seasonings who is not otherwise much of a culinary performer, has been brewing the au naturel dressing in his Connecticut cave for years and giving the bottles away as Christmas gifts. With a pinch of immodesty, he says he became "a prisoner of my own excellence." With the help of his chum A.E. Hotchner, 62, whose concoctions are usually literary (Papa Heming way), the actor is marketing the dressing in supermarkets around...
...bone. It sags and heaves. Fragments of cement and wire hang from the structure at impossible angles. A carton of unopened Pepsis rests on a slab, waiting to fall. There is a hole in the building where the garage was; it gives the place the look of an ancient cave. In the rubble a bashed-in Mercedes, a book on the coronation of Queen Elizabeth, a pair of black shoes lying in the Charlie Chaplin position. The air is thick with dust and decay. There is so much glass on the ground, each step sounds like an army...