Word: hulks
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1970-1979
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...have begun a decade ago, but in the socially aware '70s it has reached full blossom. The comics' caped crusaders have become as outraged about racial injustice as the congressional Black Caucus and as worried about pollution as the Sierra Club. Archfiends with memorable names like the Hulk and Dr. Doom are still around, but they are often pushed off the page by such new villains as air pollution and social injustice. Sometimes, indeed, the comics read like a New York Times Illustrated...
BOSTON-Frank "the Hulk" Howard parked one in the net just below the Gilbey's Gin sign, and the Washington Senators were just getting started. More Nats buzzed the bases. Boston Red Sox starter Bill Lee had let in five runs before Eddie "the Fox" Kasko could find the number to his bullpen. Maybe it would rain...
...program: the development of a laser that could destroy incoming enemy missiles. Traveling at the speed of light (186,000 miles per second), a laser beam could, in theory, intercept a 17,000-m.p.h. ICBM as it was re-entering the atmosphere and sear it into an ineffective hulk while it was still hundreds of miles from its target...
Many a concert pianist spends years and a small fortune developing a distinctive personal presence. England's John Ogdon, 34, comes by his without effort. A huge, goateed, bespectacled, ambling hulk of a man, he is virtually impossible to ignore. It is not just his looks, though, that have made him the leading figure among Britain's younger pianists. Even in an age when glittering technique is almost taken for granted, Ogdon's facility for both the finespun and the fantastic is prodigious. Says Stephen Bishop, 30, a London-based American, and a friendly keyboard rival...
...another like wee-hour carousers wending their way home. MacKenzie Thorpe is in his natural habitat. He is guiding three "guns" across the desolate marshlands of Lincolnshire on England's east coast. Bowlegged and bearded, he creeps through the high grass like some hungry predator, his burly hulk seemingly impervious to the chill wind knifing off the North Sea. Climbing a creek bank, one of the hunters stumbles. "Watch yer don't jam yer moozle in the mood," warns Thorpe. In the lifting darkness, the hunters flush a pair of teal. Thorpe takes no notice. His quarry...