Word: lamed
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...secondly, why does Mr. Reynolds try to fob off such a lame excuse. Perhaps we all are not honor students, but please give us credit for a reasonable amount of intelligence. Unfortunately I have at one time or another become quite intimate with the Cambridge police. A week ago the desk sergeant down at Central Square gave me the following bit of information: He could not understand why that parking area should be a fire hazard at night and not in the day. After all, less fires start from cigarettes when the students are asleep. During the daytime students...
...West Virginia, Senator Chapman Revercomb is probably closer to being a lame duck than any extant Republican. Although Dewey & Co. will be saddened to see Revercomb depart, they will undoubtedly be a bit relieved. Revercomb is roughly two miles to the right of present party leadership, and his public utterances often make even John Bricker look a little pink. Neely, his Democratic opponent, has strong labor support, including a thunderous blessing from John L. Lewis...
...Jockey Eddie Arcaro for a recent and painful dislocated shoulder. Muttered Eddie: "I can't hit a horse or anything." But rather than let another jockey ride Citation in last week's $25,000 Sysonby Mile at Belmont, Arcaro got a shot of novocaine in his lame shoulder and climbed aboard. If worst came to worst, he decided he could whip with his left hand...
...pale, ineffectual Friedensburg pattered back & forth between Allied offices and his own; he wore the disapproving and distressed look of a butler at a tea party when one of the guests has dropped an éclair on his mistress' finest carpet. In the middle of a lame press conference which he had summoned, word came that the Soviet-sector police had arrived in force, were swarming all over the building. For a while the reason was not clear; then it was learned that 46 West-sector police in plainclothes, summoned by Friedensburg, were trapped in the building, unarmed. They...
...film sometimes lies limp under such feeble abracadabra, but sometimes it stands on end at a weird glimpse of real black magic. Everett Sloane, as Rita's lame and jealous husband, crawls through the picture as horribly as a spider; and Glenn Anders, as a man who madly plots his own murder, has developed a soundless laugh as chilling as a razor's edge scraped across plate glass. Orson has done a capable job with his brogue, a flashy one with the camera. But not all of his magic works. He makes a blonde out of his onetime...