Word: creaming
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Schrafft's. If not Shakespearean, the conversation was at least spirited, thanks to Bleeck's ban on radios and jukeboxes. Also barred were French fries and ice cream. Customers gauche enough to request either were caustically advised to try Schrafft's down the street. Furnished in what historians of the day termed "early Butte, Montana" style, Bleeck's boasted mahogany-paneled walls and clustered electric globes, a suit of concrete-filled armor on which many a combative drunk broke his knuckles, a stuffed sailfish that had been caught by J. P. Morgan, and some...
...member of the gallery staff announced that she had successfully achieved blue ice cream. She had mixed blue dye and vanilla ice cream with a monkey wrench. The New Frontier moved an inch forward on its stools...
...know about this sort of thing in a happening," shrugged Oldenburg. They staged 48 separate events, each a minute long. Everything was sort of idiosymbolic. A huge white tube of canvas came wriggling into view, propelled by somebody underneath. Chuckle, chuckle-it's the Potomac. The blue ice cream ended up in paper plates on a picnic table, making the point that Washington is a hell of a party town. Two men sprayed the place with Flit guns loaded with a foul-smelling mixture. The sex came a little later. A lively girl with dark doe eyes, dressed...
...musical numbers by Carol Haney, a stylist of spoof with the wit to be brief. In a wry ballad of self-castigation, Comedienne Barbara Baxley kisses the pleasures of sex and the single girl goodbye while Jack ("Grand Knowing You") Cassidy is the cat's whiskers dipped in cream as the roue who drove her to ruing. Vitally integrated with the book are the lyrics and music of Sheldon Harnick and Jerry Bock, who have produced a light operatic score in which song follows song as naturally as bud bursts into leaf...
...Poonies had been having the time of their lives, what with all the newly elected candidates blind drunk, smeared with shaving cream, and crawling around on the sidewalks. Then a spoil-sport Cambridge policeman forced the fun-loving humor writers back into their Castle. They streamed out with towels over their faces shortly afterwards when an unidentified student (who can say why?) hurried the bomb into their fortress...