Word: freaked
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...January 7 the Crimson five lost another close contest to Northeastern, 55-54, on a freak play. Lou Silver had two foul shots with two seconds to play with the score 55-53 in favor of Northeastern. He missed the first, and then Northeastern called time...
GRATEFUL DEAD--My grudge against the Dead has little to do with the group, whose singing, playing and songwriting ability and charisma are universally acknowledge. It's just that every Dead freak I've known insists on playing Dead albums endlessly or sitting me down to hear "just the greatest song you've ever heard," They're not my favorite group, but it doesn't matter. Anyone going to this concert no doubt planned two months ago to attend. Be grateful the concert isn't taking place in New York where the smoking pleasures Dead audiences indulge in now earn...
...subway freaks have discovered that subways are great places to meet and watch people, study, hang out, or most importantly--get to know cities. Heaven for the subway freak is certainly New York, with its 26 lines, hundreds of miles of tracks, and an around-the-clock schedule. The MBTA system is pretty small by comparison--it only has four lines, and closes down before 1 a.m., eliminating the best hours for hanging out, but the Boston subways have a certain spirit of their own which merits the attention of even the most crazed Brooklyn BMT addict...
...final analysis, however, each subway freak chooses his own spot in the MBTA--and there are plenty to choose from. When I'm depressed, my favorite is the Central Square stop of the Red Line, when the last train of the night is due, and the station is deserted. A big iron monster takes the place of the turnstile after the man at the change booth has gone home for the night. On particularly bad nights, the iron monster will swallow your quarter and not allow you on the platform. But there is nothing in Boston that quite compares with...
...when Dartmouth and its disgusting traveling freak show of greenjacketed, hyena-mouth fans invades Cambridge to sleep on our floors, crash our parties, vomit on our rugs, and laugh all that way back to Hanover after flushing yet another Harvard football team down the nearest John, I feel like getting sick, which if you've suffered through enough Dartmouth debacles like I have, you've done more than once...