Word: dead
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...True, that's so true," murmurs Bob from the next bar stool. Chariots of Fire follows Stars Fell on Alabama. Bob tells a regional joke: "It is not true that possums are born dead by the side of the road." He insists that Terry fill out an application to the clan on a cocktail napkin. A Northern visitor is worried that he means the Klan. But no, this invitation is to join the Clan Maxwell Society. "We meet four times a year, wear kilts, promote Scottish culture." Another clan member, Kenn, a fourth-generation American with a Pavarotti girth...
...upon a plan of total destruction. In a voice that carries no hint of remorse, the aged composer reveals to the speechless Priest his decision to commission a requiem from Mozart, and then murder his rival. At the funeral, the cathedral would swell with a stirring mass for the dead musician, written by his devoted friend Antonio Salieri...
...world and representing our nation to other nations. Richard Nixon possessed a responsibility that John Belushi never approached as a Samurai Baker. After all, were Richard Nixon, as President of the United States to walk out of the Rose Garden and shoot the Soviet Leader of the Month dead, the resultant high speed missiles would have implications more intense than anything that everybody's favorite fraternity brother could do by overdosing on hard drugs. That Woodward could so shamelessly liken his critics to Richard Nixon seems particularly offensive given that The Great Conspirator's most troublesome crimes entailed the extralegal...
...hope it doesn't have to come to that. If Harvard is dead-set on proving that it can shuck its responsibility for the forest, it should produce the documents which show that retaining the $2.5 million endowment is in keeping with the letter--and the spirit--of the original agreement. But right now, most signs seem to indicate that the University has an obligation to turn over the endowment Stillman hoped would preserve his gift...
...club to pulverize the old elitist verities: grace, wit, precision, proportion, coherence. No walking of the fine narrative line for the apostles of anarchy, whose police-siren song goes like this: Wake up, pal! Get out of your fusty drawing room and hit the streets! The Aristotelian unities are dead! Modern life is chaos, and this time around, art is life set to a whomping backbeat that never lets up. When society has fallen apart, don't pick up the pieces, just admire them where they fall...