Word: knighting
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...when we get out of the board rooms and off the phones to go out to lunch, we want to see all those lovely miniskirted girls." Another male group, also called POOFF (this time, for Professional Oglers Of Female Figures), has been formed by what its founder, James Knight, describes as "a group of unsanitary senior citizens, all of whom agree that the stock market goes down with hemlines and who would gladly vote for micro skirts above...
...trouble. He awakens one sparkling Southwestern morning to discover that his wife has been bludgeoned to death in bed, and he has only the flimsiest recollection of how it happened. Without a trial, he is summarily convicted by small-town mores and yellow journalism. But there is a knight in Harvard armor waiting on the prairie. Folks round those parts don't much cotton to the young lawyer because he's named Tony Petrocelli, and he defends the town drunk and talks back to officers of the law. But maybe. Dr. Jack figures, a young sharpshooter like Tony...
...military string ensemble pumped out the dansant tunes in the ballroom at Buckingham Palace as Master Farceur Noel Coward, 70, was dubbed a knight of the realm. In a simple, almost offhand ceremony, the entertainer knelt on a small stool and took a sword tap on each shoulder ("very lightly, thank goodness," he said later) from Queen Elizabeth II, who wore street clothes. "The Queen was absolutely charming," Coward told newsmen. "She always is. I've known her since she was a little girl." Then Sir Noel strolled off with a lady on each arm, wearing a rakishly tilted...
...Once they got their knickers off, I said 'Fine, now do something clever.' But they didn't." That was Sir Robert Helpmann's critique of Oh! Calcutta! Arriving for an engagement in his native Australia, the dancing knight of London's Royal Ballet was eager to treat a group of Down Under newsmen to his impressions of New York's latest word in nude theater. "Dirty, smutty and boring," judged Helpmann, 60. Did he think the nude mood could ever spread to ballet? "Oh, no, no, no!" he protested, recoiling in mock horror...
Outright deception is rare. Many commercials retreat into a world of pure fantasy, in which humor and Madison Avenue mythology explore hard-sell claims to product superiority. The agencies have created an unearthly band of mnemonic miracle-makers-a White Knight, a Green Phantom, Josephine the lady plumber, Mr. Clean the bacteriophobic eunuch, and the Man from Glad, who is gussied up in platinum hairdo and white trench coat. In one ad, a failing used-car salesman takes a dollop of Listerine mouthwash, and customers start buying without waiting for the sales pitch. In another commercial, a bespectacled, frumpish...