Word: hipped
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Marshall, Ark., at the first two lines of a limerick Emmett Slay chuckled. At the next two he snickered. At the last one he roared boisterously, slapped his hip, discharged a pistol in his pocket, shot a friend in the thigh...
...thousand ladies and gentlemen in evening dress sat around a narrow, wooden platform beneath the great crystal chandelier of the Biltmore Hotel's grand ballroom in Manhattan one night last week and smiled indulgently as a group of white canvas-clad figures went into a huddle and yelled: "Hip, hip, hurray, America!" Promptly another huddle formed on the other side of the platform and yelled: "Hip, hip, hurray, Great Britain!" Then 19 U. S. and ten British fencers were given medals. The British got silver ones. The U. S. team got gold ones and a delicately fashioned bronze representing...
Exciting as these performances were for rich, socialite Mrs. Sloane, hospitalized in Manhattan from a hip injury sustained while bathing at Palm Beach last winter, their importance lay in the fact that they rang down the curtain on the preliminary spring races for 3-year-olds. All weather-vanes on all U. S. racing stables now pointed abruptly toward Louisville, Ky. Thither was shipped in padded motor vans and horse Pullmans every 3-year-old filly, colt and gelding in the land worth its oats. There, at Churchill Downs this week, the nation's 1934 racing season would formally...
...pink mouth. Suddenly two little red eyes focussed on Consul Bourguin, the elephant stopped chewing. Out shot the trunk again, like a fist this time, while the elephant trumpeted in rage. Consul Bourguin was knocked sprawling beneath the beast. Down stomped a colossal foot to break his leg and hip, then light as an armful of hay the angry elephant swung the French Consul overhead, hurled him high in the air across the tent...
...Legion's, and this would be sufficient to provide the necessary excuse for our forays. Anyone not a Legionnaire would be eligible to join; and since this would mean some 100,000,000 people, we could all dive into the pork barrel with three big cheers and a hip, hip, hooray. Our numbers would be ample to throw the fear of God into a considerable body of chicken-livered Congressmen who become panicky at the mere mention of veterans' votes. The disgusting spectacle of a lobby so powerful that it can override the veto of even President Roosevelt...