Word: joviality
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...daughter. The daughter, who lives in a jungle and enchants alligators and snakes by playing a saxophone, could have been a great Shaw character had she occurred to the master half a century earlier. The father has been a great Shaw character already-he is a reincarnation of the jovial merchant of death, Andrew Undershaft in Major Barbara, with less wit and more money (he is a billionaire instead of a millionaire). Most of the famed Shavian paradoxes have been reduced to formula; they sound as if they had been turned out by one of Harvard's giant calculators...
Died. J. (for James) Thomas Heflin, 82, jovial Alabama demagogue, Democratic Representative (1904-20) and Senator (until 1930); after long illness; in Lafayette, Ala. A cartoonist's Congressman (windy manner, frock coat and black bow tie), Klan-backed "Tom-Tom" stood for higher cotton prices and "white supremacy," inveighed against "the liquor interests," "the wolves of Wall Street," New York's "Roman-Tammany system," and Catholicism,* which he represented as out to i) get his scalp, 2) plunge the U.S. into war with Mexico. In 1928, rather than support Catholic Al Smith for the presidency, Heflin bolted...
...Jovial George Stoddard (whose five children irreverently call him "Old Moon Face") rules his new domain with a mixture of Rotarian good humor and an insistence on standards He takes easily to picnics and poker but he also keeps a scholar's eye on teaching and research...
Oldtimers in the audience tried to remember when any general manager of the Met had won so jovial an accolade, finally gave up. After only nine weeks of his first season, Rudolf Bing looked like the best thing that had happened to the Met in many a day. Nobody expected Bing to take all the creaks out of the old place overnight, but he had already accomplished the near miracle of persuading his singers, his board of directors and his audiences that the Met was not doomed to creak forever along ways established back in the gaslight...
Kalimpong's main social center is the Himalayan Hotel, operated by the Mac-Donalds, a jovial Scottish-Tibetan family, who organize Saturday night parties liberally spiced with unusual conversation and hot millet beer. On one recent occasion, in the dining room, a Buddhist Englishwoman thought that she recognized another woman guest. "I beg your pardon," she said, "but haven't we met in a previous incarnation?" "Yes," was the reply, "I believe we have. I was Joan of Arc and you were my brother." The Englishwoman drew herself up haughtily. 'Certainly not," she snapped, "I have never...