Word: hulk
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Tell me again about the rabbits, George." The plea is from John Steinbeck's naturalistic opus Of Mice and Men. The pleader is Lennie, a ruined hulk who grasps ideas with his hands instead of his brain. Looming about the California farm land, Lennie is barely held in tow by his keeper George. Together, the two migratory workers enjoy a classic symbiosis, the blending of brute strength and animal cunning...
...Willard more recently fell on hard times and was an empty hulk last week when a court ruled that the structure could be converted into an office building. The decision roused the Willard's persistent advocates to try once again to find a way to save the landmark, of which Poet Carl Sandburg observed that in the 1860s "Willard's Hotel could more justly be called the center of Washington and the nation than either the Capitol or the White House, or the State Department...
...Saturday morning and the hard-core "Boggers" are warming up for the weekend's festivities. Two burly, bearded men stand in a smoldering fire of upturned garbage cans and old tires, long knives strapped to their thighs, drinking beer. Behind them lies the burnt-out hulk of the weekend's first sacrifice, an old sedan of indefinable lineage. Rising out into the bright night sky, thick acrid bellows of smoke reach for the high-scudding clouds. A spectral group of dancers passes by, cavorting to the raucous notes of a kazoo. Men and women are madly intertwined in their grimy...
...sinks, the greater the crowd's pleasure. A few thousand people now mill about this shallow, bowl-like dip of land, waiting for another victim, throwing empty cans of beer at each other. For the present they must content themselves with stoning the engine of an already charred hulk. Here there is no real audience. If you are not throwing rocks or Molotov cocktails, you are providing the impetus to do so. This community-sanctioned violence is a Macho Proving Ground. When a group of men can't flip a car over on its end, a girl in the crowd...
...rushing to the far side of the track. Apparently there has been a crash. Huge volumes of black, grimy smoke pouring towards us have caused the drivers to slow up on the track. The source, however, is the bog. Stranded in the middle of the mob is the charred hulk of a 40-seat Greyhound bus, bursting like popcorn as the children stone it. The burning continues through the Oldtimers' Race, a special side event this afternoon. Spinning clods of mud in the waning light, the motorcycles continue their catatonic sorties through the now near-solid crowd...