Word: coos
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...P.O.W.s report that dealing with civilians is still a touchy business. They either gush and coo or start asking questions the P.O.W.s don't want to answer. Or are abysmally, often hilariously ignorant. Guttersen, who has now retired and is taking courses at the University of Arizona, found his young fellow students interested. "We heard you were a P.O.W.," a girl once said to him. Gutter-sen said yes. "Where?" asked the girl. "In Hanoi," said Guttersen. "Is that in Korea?" the girl asked...
Common sense and reality have both been affronted regularly in the anti-discrimination war. The feminist movement's drive to desex nouns and pronouns was definitively dramatized by the 1976 case of Ms. Ellen Cooperman, who unsuccessfully sought to change her legal name to Coo-perperson. But God only knows-if, indeed, He or She does-how much needless fear of words has been generated by the campaign to cleanse public language of slander, denigration and defamation. It has obviously reduced the use of contemptuous epithets, but it has also unnecessarily inflamed some tender sensibilities. Take the heartfelt claim...
...home of Peripherique, a six-pound black howler monkey and rogue male, whose treetop wanderings inspired local farmers to name him after the high-speed roadway that encircles Paris. Like all howl er monkeys, black or red, Peripherique has an amazingly overdeveloped set of vocal chords: his mere coo, echoing across the valley like the roar of a hungry lion, has startled many an unwary tourist. Rather more astonishing is the fact that he roams the Dordogne at all. Peripherique's proper habitat is the rain forests of the Amazon River valley half a world away...
...always, that fifth season-"mud" -oozed through Vermont and New Hampshire, where the coo of the mourning dove gave way to the growl of four-wheel-drive vehicles pulling unsuspecting travelers out of the region's annual goo. The 949 frugal residents of Plainfield, Vt., authorized a study to see if they should keep their dirt roads-potholes and all-instead of paving them with expensive, and unprofitable, asphalt...
Look. Two men jitterbug their drunk way down Lansdowne Street, shreiking and twirling and smashing into hard brick walls. Their noise intrudes in this damp, silent alley; the warehouses know no human sound or stink from five p.m. to nine in the morning. The men wail deep and coo softly, as if speaking through thin silk stockings...