Word: glassing
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...little after 6 p.m. last Thursday, William Bryan Cruse, 59, got into his car, carrying a high-powered rifle, a shotgun, a handgun and a bag of ammunition, and headed for a nearby shopping mall in Palm Bay, Fla. (pop. 45,000). He opened fire through the plate-glass windows of a crowded Winn Dixie supermarket and an adjacent jewelry shop. Stan Graybush, 45, was near a check-out line inside the Winn Dixie. "I heard boom boom boom," he said. "I yelled, 'Get on the floor!' There must have been 50 people running in all different directions...
...many blank pages, or pages with the same letter, or random words about random words, Philip Glass on paper, ink as an automatic act, meta-words, that refer back to their physical Existence as the orgasmic climactic union of ink and processed tree stump...
...with the sounds of Steppenwolf blaring through his Walkman, Dewitt remounted his self-powered "hawg" in search of the city limits. Unfortunately, Dewitt's depth perception was not as good as it had been and he ended up running into a treacherous fire hydrant and crashing through a plate glass window. The window belonged to a movie theater and, in order to avoid paying reparations, Dewitt quickly mingled among a crowd of film seekers, attentively viewing The Color Of Money (Beacon Hill). Dewitt had seen this movie before and at second look decided he didn't like it. The Color...
Then, there on the terrace, dimly visible behind a cloudy glass door, was a skirted figure. I frantically began adding years to my mental picture of Cappi, praying for a match. But beside me, Dave's face was lighting up. The door opened, and the two Iowan's smiled at each other. A thick wholesome glow suffused the terrace as they shook hands, sparkles flashing from their corn polished teeth, drowning out Adam's smirk and my vision of Cappi. She wasn't Cappi and she wasn't fat. I had been betrayed, Adam had lost five dollars, Dave...
...JAZZ." I suspect this is designed to fool gullible tourists into thinking they're in Preservation Hall, the legendary traditional jazz room across the street. By the time they realize the mistake they're too drunk to leave, having already bought three six dollar Hurricanes with the accompanying souvenir glass. Perhaps this happened to the sailors, who sat at a table near the stage surrounded on three sides by a senior citizens tour group from Florida. They kept looking at each other, then at their drinks, then back at each other, while a pedestrian Dixieland group on the bandstand honked...