Word: graveyard
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...just wanted to--and did--have a nice time. Why else would anyone go to a Pudding show. Maybe we're all whistling past the graveyard, watching all the loveable aristos thwart those gnarly peasants. Never will you see a group of people more determined to have a good time than at opening night at the Pudding. By the end they are desparate for the traditional kick-line. They erupt when the hairy legs finally start pumping...
...largest, had been living with the bleak diagnosis for more than a year. In December, its owners, the Charter Company of Jacksonville, finally put it up for sale. Last week, with no takers to be found, and awash in red ink, the Bulletin became another logo in the graveyard of big-city newspapers. Said Charter Communications President J.P. Smith Jr.: "In the final analysis, the paper was unable to generate the circulation and additional advertising revenues ... it needed to survive...
...ordinary hero and heroine like the young Astaire around a lamppost. They are ordinary indeed. As played by Teri Garr, Frannie is a Shirley MacLaine gamine minus the cutes and the smarts and the go-get-'em will. Her fella, Hank (Frederic Forrest), who works in an automobile graveyard, is just as lackluster. Sitting at the breakfast table with his beer belly peeking through a towel toga, Hank looks like the last of the Caesars-Sid, playing late Brando. The apogée of their romantic arc is long in the past, almost beyond memory...
Tomorrow their junk will be towed to Gin Drinker's Bay, the place designated by the Hong Kong authorities as an elephants' graveyard for the vessels of the boat people. There it will either be burned straight away or await burning with other wrecks on a jetty directly across the water from a hill of gray gravestones and a blue columbarium. The engines, which do not burn, lie heaped like brown skulls beside the remains of tillers that were made with welded pipes. Only a few boats rest in Gin Drinker's Bay now, smoldering near the scavenging dogs. There...
...twisting of the malted-milk beater, choke for chocolate, and cackle, of course, for the chicken that laid the egg). New scoop shops do not seem to have developed such a memorable language of their own. Carla Seidel, 20, a friendly, blond, Harvard psychology major who scoops the graveyard shift-11 p.m. to 7 a.m.-at Brigham's in Harvard Square, describes the "zeroll" scooping technique (named for the anti-freeze-filled scoop that is used) that Brigham's requires its employees to learn. "The idea is to get maximum surface area but to keep the scoop sort...