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Word: goddammed (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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Inman-Ebel's clinical tone enrages some people. "What's wrong with forward tongue carry?" says John Tinkler, who teaches history of the English language at the University of Tennessee. "It doesn't sound like Indy-goddam-ana." Tinkler is a vast, round man with silver hair, dark skin and flashing, protuberant eyes. He describes his accent as "educated rural Southern," the language college graduates in his family have spoken for generations. He wishes Inman-Ebel would attack the stereotypes and the attitudes, instead of the accent. "She's teaching people how not to talk like folks," he says. "That...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: In Chattanooga: How Not to Talk like a Southerner | 3/7/1988 | See Source »

...principles of ! effective communication. This time Karen looks up at Ogre ("Good eye contact, Karen") and says calmly, "Why don't you sit down so we can discuss some of the problems you have?" Under her breath she adds, "And so you're not standing over my goddam desk...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: In Chicago: Seminars Everywhere | 10/12/1987 | See Source »

...favorite programs is The Newlywed Game, which, he says, gives him an insight into the lives of working-class Americans. He has a fond spot for his fruit trees -- grapefruit, orange and papaya -- and talks to them the way he might like to talk to his actors. "Goddam you!" he says. "Deliver...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Show Business: Broadway Birthday | 6/15/1987 | See Source »

...more watered-down form. Salinger naturally had no comment on the court's decision. Holden Caulfield had already spoken for him, after all. In the opening lines of The Catcher in the Rye, Salinger's captious hero warns the reader, "I'm not going to tell you my whole goddam autobiography." And not going to let anyone else tell it either...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Law: Return To Sender | 2/9/1987 | See Source »

...women and old men. The young men must wait until 5 p.m., and the crowd of more than 200 are asked to form four rows behind a yellow line and watch their language. It seems an impossible task. A trembling man who goes by the name Carper cries, "What goddam row am I in!" as he pulls his red wool hat down until it covers his eyebrows. Carper has spent five to six years on the streets, and thinks he may be 33. The smell of putrid wine and decaying teeth poisons his breath; the fluid running from his swollen...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Slow Descent into Hell | 2/2/1987 | See Source »

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