Word: hipping
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Scenarists Larry Gelbart and Burt Shevelove (who wrote the 1962 Broadway musical A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum) dress hip gags in a graceful English manner, and their wayward humor brightens train wrecks, horse-and-buggy chase scenes and a hearse-to-hearse search for missing bodies. Among the grimly gay daguerrotypes at hand are Peter Cook and Dudley Moore as a pair of craven city cousins. Peter Sellers, as a sawbones who specializes in questionable cases, looks like a depraved caricature of Benjamin Franklin, while Wilfrid Lawson all but steals the show as a loyal...
...foibles, if she played the piano loudly while Mother was trying to give an interview, if she teased photographers hip-deep into the Atlantic City surf in order to take her picture, Luci's capers never became a public problem. Nellie Grant's flirtations were so well noted that her mother packed her off to Europe at 16-only to have Nellie return with a dandified English worshiper in tow. Alice Roosevelt (who will attend this week's wedding) scandalized Washington 60 years ago by smoking cigarettes in public and riding horseback in breeches...
...balance precarious, and its tenderness made walking painful. The withering of the foot caused a withering of the calf and sometimes dangerously distorted the curve of the spine and the position of vital organs. The Chinese believed, however, that by shifting muscular strain from the lower leg to the hip region, the process considerably increased the size of a woman's thighs and buttocks and permanently strengthened the pelvic muscles, alterations much appreciated by Chinese...
Lithe and handsome in fringed white buckskin, his golden mane glinting in the sunlight, dashing George Armstrong Custer stood before a tattered guidon of the Seventh Cavalry, smiting bloodthirsty Sioux hip and thigh. Finally, standing tall, his dead troops strewn about him, Custer faced a climactic Indian charge singlehanded and became the last man to die at the Battle of the Little Bighorn...
...Tonight," she sings, "tonight won't be like any night." And the audience, basking in reverie and a second brandy, believes her. Svelte in a glittering, hip-hugging gown, her generously exposed bosom gently heaving, she moves like a vision in a halo of amber light. "You'd be so nice to come home to," she purrs, and the menfolk are hooked. Now she is happy, now she is blue, and so, alternately, is the audience. They can hardly help it. It all seems so sincere, so spontaneous, so terribly special...