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Word: cracker (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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BEHIND HIS HOUSE, the Reverend Harper, a cracker-barrel oracle in the best tradition, has a little lean-to grocery. He is in his eighties and is well-known and respected for preaching at a different church each Sunday somewhere around the country. He is a type you have met before, in one account or another, or at least he seems to be. He is "always glad to talk to you;" he is full of wisdom...

Author: By Phil Patton, | Title: Some Houses Down There | 2/27/1974 | See Source »

...Shit, you know Charlie Cobb, he's a freakoid cracker. Freakoid crackers are individualists to an extreme degree. They smoke, but they know its gotta be kept a secret from the rest of the world. They might have been to Vietnam and started smokin there. But one thing they don't like is freaks. They don't like to be considered freaks. They consider freaks lazy. They might have hair down to their assholes, but they're willing to get out and shovel shit and dig ditches. They don't look down on any chore that needs doin...

Author: By Timothy Carlson, | Title: CANNABIS ROAD: The Freakoid Cracker | 2/1/1974 | See Source »

...know the thing a freakoid cracker hates most in the world? Platform shoes on a male. In any hip crowd you can spot the freakoid cracker. He'll be looking with utter disdain on the guy flying around with the four-inch platform heels. The English mod look...

Author: By Timothy Carlson, | Title: CANNABIS ROAD: The Freakoid Cracker | 2/1/1974 | See Source »

Four years ago, Poly erected a new school closer to the suburbs. The purpose of the move was obvious; "Poly wants a cracker," detractors screamed. At the same time, my school's population dipped to an all-time low, and we began to lose City-Poly games...

Author: By Philip Weiss, | Title: Weiss Up | 11/27/1973 | See Source »

...ancient. IAB complex like an ascetic's mountain retreat into a hotbed of vituperative energy and activity which would emanate from its fourth-floor generator like a pulsing and life-giving sign. Harry, whose massive and hoopla'ed cherry bomb got somewhere defused, who never knew why the big cracker fizzled, who never could decipher whether it was wet gunpowder, or stale materials, or whether, and most painfully whether, the big firecracker just wasn't much to begin with, just wasn't the kind of night illumination that the Cambridge sky longed for, just wasn't the thing that would...

Author: By Peter A. Landry, | Title: Where Have All the Heroes Gone? | 9/1/1973 | See Source »

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