Word: conscious
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...artists reap a harvest of Sunday coppers by drawing Mrs. Simpson in colored crayon. Meanwhile King Edward at his snuggery declines to receive his friend and recent guest in Scotland, the Hon. Esmond Cecil Harmsworth, son of the No. 2 British Press Tycoon Viscount Rothermere. In his great, mass-conscious penny-press thunders Rothermere: "I have just returned from a trip around the world. . . . Everywhere unstinted praise and admiration of our King! . . . You cannot smuggle the greatest living Englishman off the throne of England during the weekend...
Dada is something newer, different, a bewilderment that affected the art world of Europe for a few shell-shocked years during and immediately after the War. The object of dadaism was a conscious attack on reason, a complete negation of everything, the loudest and silliest expression of post-War cynicism. "I affirm," wrote early Dadaist Hans Arp, "that Tristan Tzara discovered the word dada on the 8th of February, 1916, at 6 o'clock in the evening ... in the Terrace Cafe in Zurich. I was there with my twelve children when Tzara pronounced for the first time this word...
...calibre Colombian general named Virgilio Barco journeyed to Manhattan to sell an oil concession he held on 1,200,000 acres of his native jungle, dropped into the Standard Oil Building. Legend is that he got no farther than the gate: suspicious of his torrent of Spanish, the bomb-conscious guards summarily ejected him through the door. Thereafter the proud Colombian refused to have any dealing with Standard Oil of New Jersey. His concession was snapped up by Promoter Carl Kendriok MacFadden for his Carib Syndicate, Ltd., which kept a minority interest, sold the rest to Henry Latham Doherty...
...last he met Amai, with his friends waiting nearby and much of the native village looking on, he found her a grave, well-preserved, attentive woman who said politely that she had heard he was rich and successful. They exchanged formal comments about their careers, and the self-conscious traveler, feeling a little ridiculous and more concerned than ever about the prestige of the white race, hurried on to visit Java, Bali, Sumatra, Macassar, and other island haunts with the passionate absorption of a middle-aged romantic who had set out in quest of his youth, found it and decided...
...then announced, "Yes, it's still there". Producing a very fusty relie of a waffle, he explained that over a year ago in a frolicsome mood he had tossed it up to that lodging. Ever since we have caught ourselves eyeing all the obscure crannies and corners with half-conscious suspicion. A detachment of idle biddies (and there are plenty) seems to be the only solution...