Word: dinned
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...into heavy public and parliamentary opposition to his bill for beefing up Japan's long-feared police (TIME, Nov. 17). Though members of his own party joined in the criticism of the Premier, Kono urged him to go ahead and ram his police bill through. As the din in the Diet grew louder, Kishi saw a sweet use for his adversity. Rounding suddenly on Kono last week, Kishi demanded his resignation, along with those of two other party aides. "Responsibility for the confusion in the Diet rests on these three," he blandly announced. "Therefore, I have no intention...
Even in a game's quiet moments the din at the Forum is incessant. But the normal noise level increases to a rafter-raising roar when an aging, sharp-featured wingman with deep-set flashing jet-black eyes and a mop of black hair cuddles the puck to his stick, nurses it past enemy defenders, skillfully fakes the goalie out of position and flicks the rubber disk into the cage. Shouts of "Rocket, Rocket" fill the air in delirious tribute to Joseph Henri Maurice Richard, the greatest player in modern hockey history...
...cadets go to the Stanford game in Palo Alto. Protested the cadets: "We'll beat Stanford anyway, sir, but the team needs us at Iowa." The answer was still no. The cadet wing gathered in the courtyard for a pre-game pep rally and set up a din that would not be denied. General Sullivan explained patiently that the trip would involve a 20-hour bus ride each way, that it would cost every cadet $25. Each objection was met with a roar of dissent. General Sullivan gave in. The entire cadet wing boarded 22 buses, rode all night...
...rally last week (17 cops and a turn-away crowd of 2,500 teeners), Deejay Howard Miller paraded an in-person menagerie of teen-rage songbirds, drew from Singer Eddy Arnold the admission that he quit high school in the tenth grade and wishes he had not. When the din quieted, School Superintendent's Assistant Francis McKeag told the summer-happy youngsters that school would help them find a career and a mate...
...Only madmen, the motorists soon discovered, tried to drive into Russia that summer. In Russia, what roads they found were rivers of mud; what rivers they came to were all but impassable. The hotels were primitive pestholes, thriving with insect life and always located next to the sleep-shattering din of a dance hall. They rolled into Moscow in four battered heaps, so filthy that the cheering crowds at their reception hardly recognized them as the heroes of the occasion...