Word: cigar
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Inhaled carbon monoxide, in smokers and nonsmokers alike, enters the bloodstream through the inner surface of the lungs, competing with oxygen in the process. The result is that the hemoglobin of the red blood cells carries less oxygen than normal, plus a load of the poisonous carboxyhemo-globin. Cigar smoke presents a hazard similar to that from cigarettes...
...southeast corner of the White House. There, where he relaxes and reads, the President has a favorite gray velvet armchair "that we brought from California." This is the room where he met with Henry Kissinger to plan the China trip. Occasionally he smokes a pipe or a cigar here. There is a fireplace he likes to have kept burning and high-fidelity speakers on either side of the grate. His tapes, cartridges and phonograph are in a large walk-in closet near the door to the sitting room. He prefers melodious classics: Van Cliburn playing Grieg, Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff...
...Idant each deposit is carefully analyzed and a sampling of the sperm counted in an electronic device to establish the semen's degree of fertility. The semen is then stored in thin plastic "straws," labeled, placed within a cigar-shaped aluminum container and chilled to -321° F. in liquid nitrogen. Sperm banks are inordinately careful to guard against unauthorized use of their resources. Donors are blood-typed, for instance, because certain substances are common to both individual sperm and blood and thus serve to identify "ownership" of the substance...
Alex plays the role of the lovable lug to perfection. His appearance-a 20-in. neck atop a 6 ft. 2 in., 245-lb. body -suggests a hippo in hip pads. Puffing on a huge cigar and squinting through glasses as thick as beer mugs, he bills himself as a "sort of blown-up Cary Grant." He has been besieged with offers, including roles in a TV comedy series and a movie called The Hard Case. Does he miss football? "Sure I miss it. I guess my main regret is that I can't go up to Green...
...suggests, The Concert starts at a recital. A mop-haired pianist stalks imperiously across the stage to his waiting instrument, elaborately dusts off the keyboard and then sails into some Chopin pieces. As he plunks away, an audience arrives: a pair of whispering ladies with jangly handbags, a bored cigar chomper and his prissy wife, an ecstatic temptress so caught up in the music that she seems to be seducing the piano. The sequence ends in a parody of musical chairs when an usher discovers that everyone has the wrong ticket stub...