Word: ende
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Throughout the proceedings, Connally did not budge from his insistence that he had not taken the money. By the end of the three-week trial, there seemed to be only one issue. Who was telling the truth: Connally or Jacobsen...
...People who stepped out of line were "kneecapped." By 1972 the Provos' war had entered a crescendo of barbarity. The indiscriminate killings brought bitter condemnation from the Catholic Church and political leaders. But in Ulster's impoverished Catholic enclaves the sight of a British soldier at the end of the street remained a sufficient spur to militance in a conflict that Irishmen track back for centuries. Soon the Protestant backlash added to, and in many cases surpassed, the Provos' terror...
...crusted with ice, and Mimas, a similar icy moon. One surprise: there was far more debris in the wide gap between Saturn's outermost rings than could be seen from earth, but no trace of a fifth ring beyond the four known ones. At week's end the probe swept through this outer region, coming within 21,000 km (13,000 miles) of Saturn's cloud tops in the first rendezvous with that distant planet...
...this corner ... Ed (Too Tall') Jones?" The 6-ft. 9-in. Tennessean played defensive end for the Dallas Cowboys for five seasons, but he has abandoned his $150,000-a-year gridiron career for a shot at professional boxing. "Football was always my third favorite sport," he says. "Basketball is two. Boxing is No. 1." At 28, Jones certainly has a No. 1 physique: he weighs 248 Ibs., has an 88-in. reach (9 ½ in. longer than Muhammad Ali's) and a 15-in. fist (as big as Sonny Liston's). To prepare for his ring...
Kean was the first superstar, an Olivier onstage and an Errol Flynn off, a rake, a wastrel and yet an actor, as Critic William Hazlitt said, who had "a gleam of genius." If he were at the end of his career today, he would be writing his memoirs in Malibu and growing rich off Polaroid commercials. In Sartre's play, however, he is dodging creditors, juggling mistresses and in his spare moments asking himself that old existential question: Who am I? Sartre's answer, given with stylish wit, is that Kean is like all of life...