Word: doc
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...victim of a head-on car crash lay speechless in a Los Angeles hospital. On the 21st day of silence, the neurosurgeon tried a desperate measure: "How are you feeling today, Bugs Bunny?" he asked. The reply was immediate: "Eh, just fine, Doc. How're you?" A question to Porky Pig ) elicited a similar response: "Just f-fine, th-th-thanks!" In his otherwise light-headed autobiography, Mel Blanc recalls, "It was as though Bugs and Porky, into whom I had breathed life three decades earlier, were returning the favor...
...Sweet Honey in the Rock opens up the set with a sweetened version of Leadbelly's Sylvie that nicely smartens up tradition, while Pete Seeger shuts things down with a tub-thumping rendition of Guthrie's This Land Is Your Land, with assistance from Sweet Honey, the revered guitarist Doc Watson and a chorus of school kids. It is Bob Dylan who builds the bridge into the present. His version of Pretty Boy Floyd, performed with acoustic guitar and harmonica, is filled with the fierce surprise of a man going in search of his past and, against all odds, finding...
...worked in several sections before writing about national affairs. He left TIME in 1963 to join The New Yorker. In 1980 Trillin published the novel Floater, which depicts the journalistic misadventures of Fred Becker, a newsmagazine writer who "floats" from section to section. Among the book's characters are Doc Kennedy, a medicine writer who keeps coming down with the ailments that he writes about, and Woody Fenton, a managing editor who communicates mainly with phrases like "Golly" and "Jumping Jehoshaphat." Alas, no mention is made of the magazine's publisher...
...monster may be the biggest thing to hit Bishopville (pop. 3,500) since Hometown Boy Felix ("Doc") Blanchard left in the 1940s and became an All- American fullback at West Point. Hunters with shotguns combed the swamp, and a local radio station offered a million-dollar reward for the creature's capture. Fourteen-inch footprints appeared on a dusty road; Sheriff Liston Truesdale intends to send plaster casts to the FBI, eventually. He may also ask Davis to take a polygraph. But no one is in much of a hurry to solve this mystery. "I hope they never catch...
...tell you, doc, I'm sick. There must be a cure...