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Word: jerk (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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What Ventura and Bush have in common is that neither is afraid to shock. The difference is that for Bush, acting like a jerk seems to be a political calculation...

Author: By Alan E. Wirzbicki, | Title: 'The Body' Politic | 10/5/1999 | See Source »

GROSS GIFTS Tired of reading about the latest company to sell its mundane wares online? The folks at giftcrap.com feel your ennui: their site has links to bizarre gift ideas instead. How about Cheddar-cheese-flavored worms, below, or a cremation urn shaped like a golf bag? For the jerk in your life (their words, not ours), you can get an alarm clock that wakes him or her with 60 seconds of verbal abuse. This site is not recommended for the humor impaired...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Your Technology Sep. 6, 1999 | 9/6/1999 | See Source »

Point the second: All it takes is one jerk. I said that before. But on this level, I'm much more worried. Thousands of angry people vs. scared riot cops. Oh, and no security. I'll get to that soon enough. What frightened me was the chance that some riot cop would panic and cave in some poor schmuck's head or discharge a weapon at the wrong person and I'd get hurt in the ensuing panic...

Author: By Paul S. Gutman, | Title: Up in Flames | 7/30/1999 | See Source »

...front of a golf course parking lot. I extended my thumb. After several false alarms from arriving golfers, a red hatchback running at full throttle flew by me, only inches from my hopeful digit. A hundred feet down the road, the vehicle lost speed and, with a jerk, spun around with a decisive U-turn. The car accelerated toward me and came to a halt in the unpaved parking lot. I jogged over to the driver's window and asked, "Raglan?" The kid driver with hair in his eyes gave a nod and said, "Sweet...

Author: By Jonathan S. Paul, | Title: POSTCARD FROM NEW ZEALAND | 7/23/1999 | See Source »

...front of a golf course parking lot. I extended my thumb. After several false alarms from arriving golfers, a red hatchback running at full throttle flew by me, only inches from my hopeful digit. A hundred feet down the road, the vehicle lost speed and, with a jerk, spun around with a decisive U-turn. The car accelerated toward me and came to a halt in the unpaved parking lot. I jogged over to the driver's window and asked, "Raglan?" The kid driver with hair in his eyes gave a nod and said, "Sweet...

Author: By Jonathan S. Paul, | Title: To Raglan and Back | 7/23/1999 | See Source »

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