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Word: doggedly (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 1990-1999
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Usage:

...Dog...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Brevitas | 3/13/1998 | See Source »

...Dog is a wonderfully biting satire of the prevailing attitude which links show business to American politics. Two weeks before he is up for re-election, the president is accused of making advances on a Girl Scout; mysterious political consultant Conrad Brean (Robert De Niro) is called to resolve the catastrophe. Everyone gets brutally skewered in this film: politicians, filmmakers, actors, reporters and the credulous masses. The load eventually proves to be too much for the film to carry, but the film has to be admired for its sheer effort. Wag the Dog remains vastly entertaining even during its most...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Brevitas | 3/13/1998 | See Source »

Floppy disks, at, first, seem very convenient. They are small. They are tough. They are like the rare dog known as a fyce. Holding approximately 1.5 megabytes (MB) of data, they easily store a plethora of papers and other moderately-sized files. Transporting them is no big deal, as they could probably fit inside your sock...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Floppy Disks Are Unreliable | 3/10/1998 | See Source »

...scene belonged on trash TV, full of staged bluster and righteous fury and lots and lots of diversions. There was James Carville, the President's alpha attack dog, daring independent counsel Kenneth Starr to subpoena him by mocking both his faith and his fervor. "He goes down to the Potomac and listens to hymns as the cleansing water of the Potomac goes by, and we're going to wash all sodomites and fornicators out of town," Carville said. There was Starr deploring what he described as an "avalanche of lies" that had paralyzed his investigation, by which he meant...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Everyone's Talking Trash | 3/9/1998 | See Source »

...tomcat on the prowl. My guitar playing was similarly sub-standard, though most wouldn't be able to tell through the jangling of six crudely-tuned strings. And, finally, my harmonica playing--which I'd been toying with for a longer time--was more than enough to set the dog howling in pain and my little brother storming to my room to display his lack of enthusiasm with my skills. I was disheartened, to say the least...

Author: By T.j. Kelleher, | Title: Like a Rolling Stone | 3/5/1998 | See Source »

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