Word: eater
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...AVENGERS (ABC. 10-11 p.m) "The Man-Eater of Surrey Green" turns out to be a not so Jolly Green Giant with a brain that responds to special signals from the evil ones. It is up to John Steed and Mrs. Emma Peel to short-circuit the operation...
...current master of theatrical invective, uses it here for potshots and heavy artillery in a marital Armageddon. His chief combatants are a pair of matched failures: George is an ineffectual, hagridden history professor; his wife Martha is the university president's daughter-a bitchy, aging man-eater with a father fixation and a casual lust for younger chaps. The entertainment takes shape very late one evening when a new young faculty couple stops by for a nightcap. "Give your coats and stuff to sourpuss," snarls Martha, and the foursome is off on an orgy of truth-and-consequences that...
...substances used to bring mortal flesh into the presence of the divine. Such was the mysterious soma, mentioned in a Sanskrit chronicle. Nomads on the Kamchatka Peninsula lofted themselves into the dazzling world of the gods with the mushroom Amanita muscaria, and discovered that the visions of one eater could be passed to as many as five others if each one drank the urine of the man before him. In South America, long before Columbus, witch doctors took cohoba snuff to converse with gods and the dead...
...fire-eater who publicly denounced the "phony antiCommunism" of Joe McCarthy in 1954, Sheil is now 78 and subject to ailments (most recently a broken ankle) that have kept him from performing pastoral duties. Cody visited Sheil with the suggestion that he let a younger man take over financial administration of the parish. Sheil at first consented, but then told a newsman: "I didn't retire. This is a removal." Cody expressed his regret that the matter had been made public-and coolly named a new pastor of the parish...
...only thing that the trim, 155-lb. bachelor enjoys more than his job is his bayside home in East Hampton, L.I. There, decked out in an ankle-length apron, he putters happily around his professionally equipped kitchen. A precise and sparing eater himself, Claiborne hates and rarely uses marzipan, marshmallows or iceberg lettuce, serves rigidly small portions to a constant stream of guests who range from curious neighbors to the giants of the profession...