Word: jugs
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Bernie Goldfine. It always pleases men like myself-whose income is slightly less than Bernie's 90-proof expenditures of last year-when such shaggy dogs are at least brought up for a lecture or two. Too bad Judge Wyzanski can't slap him in the jug with as much ease as my C.O. might be able to under the Uniform Code of Military Justice...
Ripping off Patterson's sheet should help the cause of his opponent, George Wallace, stormy 39-year-old circuit judge who only threatens to toss FBI agents into the jug if they come in his district investigating civil rights cases. But rare was the Southerner who did not shiver at the new high stakes in next week's runoff. "The election of John Patterson will be interpreted by the Klan as a major victory," warned Greensboro Watchman Editor Hamner Cobbs, Antiviolence White Citizens' Councilman. "In that event, for the next four years the escutcheon of Alabama will...
Anonymity. At first glance, Guinness at 44 looks remarkably like nothing much. He is rather short and shapeless, with milk-bottle shoulders, chubby hands and a prosperous waistline. He is balding, jug-eared, and his pale phiz is blotched with pale freckles and pale blue eyes. His usual expression is an unemphatic blank. Critic Kenneth Tynan once mused that "the number of false arrests following the circulation of his description would break all records...
Twentieth Century: In CBS's Gandhi, the scrawny, jug-eared little man in the white loincloth looked as Author John Gunther once saw him: an inscrutable "combination of Jesus Christ, Tammany Hall, and your father." Fuzzy images from old films showed the gentle ascetic all but engulfed by the worshiping, hysterical throngs on the mass pilgrimage to the sea to carry out a plan of passive resistance during the British salt monopoly. There was the shrewd lawyer-diplomat putting his hand over an inquisitive British reporter's mouth or quipping on arrival in London in 1931: "You people...
...novel Philip, he wrote: "When I think how this very line, this very word, which I am writing represents money, I am lost in a respectful astonishment...I am paid sixpence per line. With [these last 67 words] I can buy a loaf, a piece of butter, a jug of milk, a modicum of tea-actually enough to make breakfast for the family." Such digressions helped to conceal the sweat and effort that Thackeray put into his work. "I can see him pointing now with his finger," wrote his daughter Anny, "to two or three little words. Sometimes he would...