Word: fuzzed
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...route, using the ersatz crime lingo favored throughout the movie, Joyce says: "It was a cinch the pump jockey'd give you fuzz an eyeball description of the wagon," meaning that the filling-station attendant was certain to give the cops a full description of the stolen car. Pretty soon, as the script commands, she "tantalizingly presses her body against the deputy's and eases his own gun from its holster. The movement of her shirt rubbing against him opens the front revealingly." "See?" she asks tauntingly. "You should've searched me. You kinda missed something, didn...
Ever since John Kennedy appointed Adlai Stevenson as his U.N. Ambassador and Chester Bowles as his Under Secretary of State, Senate Republicans had been stropping their razors in anticipation of shaving the liberal fuzz off the foreign policy notions of the nominees. Last week, as Stevenson and Bowles appeared before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee for their confirmation hearings, the Republicans got their chance-and both Adlai and Chester remained unshaved...
...article "Fuss in Puerto Rico" might be more appropriately entitled "Fuzz in P.R.", for it is indeed fuzzy thinking knowingly to vote for a party which uses public funds to run birth-control clinics, a party which has repeatedly refused to grant one hour a week off public school time (as is done in the U.S.) for religious instruction of the pupil's choice; it is indeed fuzzy thinking to vote for this party and still claim to be a Catholic...
...latest foolishness, is a river town. His hero is a happy bachelor named Frank Blanchard, who, though college-educated, wouldn't take New York if you renamed Sixth Avenue for him. And for good reason: he lives on a houseboat, makes a dandy income manufacturing Sno-Fuzz machines (Sno-Fuzz is a kiddy confection), and practices a kind of Greco-Roman wrestling with any number of ladies. In fallow periods he daydreams of Ava Gardner-a whimsy not among the author's bubbliest...
...hear him in San Francisco. No such common denominator applies any more; his following has increased to multitudes, mainly in the big cities, which he has, in his own word, "saturated" by long stands of up to six months. He calls his followers "my people." Some have peach fuzz on their cheeks, and others have it on the tops of their heads. The one thing they share is a fondness for articulate irony and a sense of feeling "in." Occasional strays get up and walk out muttering "Communist," but the in-group would all understand the college freshman who says...