Word: elbowings
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...fast pace of medical research," says Dr. Carlos Martini, vice president of education for the A.M.A. and author of the J.A.M.A. report. "But when everybody becomes specialized, then it's a problem. Someday, if we're not careful, we'll have people who want to specialize in the left elbow and not the right...
Would tourists still flock to London to watch the lesser royals queue up at bus stops or elbow their way through soccer crowds? Would the British really relish a workaday monarchy like Denmark's? The problem with all solutions to the current problems of the royals is that their historically entrenched tradition is profoundly irrational. Early in Victoria's reign, Walter Bagehot wrote of the crown, "Its mystery is its life. We must not let in daylight upon magic." Sometime, probably not very far in the future, the British people will have to decide whether they want the magic...
...from the back alleys of Ballyragget, but they were Falstaffs to me. And there were Ancient Pistols among them. And there was an old man with a broken-hearted-looking face who used to come in and sit in a chair in the corner with a Guinness at his elbow and stare straight ahead for hours at a time and occasionally mumble a few words to himself, and every time he came in I would say to myself, 'King Lear.' " Readers of that passage will not wonder that Mitchell has attended meetings of the James Joyce Society for the past...
...wasn't so dangerous. "People want to get out of gangs, but they're afraid of getting whooped," says Enirque Quiroz, 20, a hard-core member of the Latin Kings in Chicago. Quiroz, a lumbering fellow who has been shot at 12 times, jailed five times, sliced in the elbow and the chin and had his hands broken with a bat, is exactly the kind of guy who makes getting out so problematic. Although he acknowledges some qualms about cracking the heads of close friends who want out of the gang, he has a simple technique for dealing with...
...neon sign in front of a singles bar. She makes a beeline -- all right, a mosquitoline -- straight into the swarm. Once she's inside, the sound of her wings, beating 250 to 500 times a second, becomes the mosquito equivalent of a flirty hair flip. The males frantically elbow each other to get at her, and within seconds one of them scores. The pair, copulating in midair, float down in crazy circles, coming briefly to rest in a tangle of legs and antennae. Who cares if that hum might later cost them their lives? It was worth...