Word: latters
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...savagely tossed out of bed; she's forced to clean toilets with her toothbrush. When her condescending, over-protective parents arrive to rescue her from the base, Judy, confronted with the choice of being treated like a baby or being treated like a piece of crap, opts for the latter. She sincerely believes that by remaining in an institution that denies her any individuality or free will, she can gain some sense of identity. Her ridiculous transformation begins ; before long she's a spit-and-polish fighter, marching proudly, singing "I'm not afraid to die." She begins signing...
...harriers won hands down, and decided to stay for dinner in Princeton, where their wild cheers could be overheard by disgruntled Princetonites. Now, since the latter seems much more likely, it's only a matter of extending speculation a bit further...
...gone nearly far enough in cutting spending, tightening money supply, and policing the trade unions. Although some portions of British Aerospace and the Post Office have been turned over to private industry, not enough other industries have gone back to the farm. British Leyland and British Steel--the latter losing over $1 million a day--still devour large chunks of British taxpayers' pounds. "No public enterprise anywhere ever made profits," he declared...
...podge. There are some prematurely-greying early works of some elegance, rather reminiscent of early Philip Larkin or John Wain ("Belgian Winter," "Retrospect"); there is some doggerel ("Fair Shares for All"); there is some sophomoric drivel ("Toys," "Report"); there are fine things ("Science Fiction," "A Song of Experience"--the latter with witty, well-crafted verses like "He tried all colours, white and black, and coffee/Though quite a few were chary, more were bold/Some took it like the Host, some like a toffee/The two or three who wept were soon consoled."). Amis is an able versifier, but he seems dispassionately distant...
...Pistols have a double autopsy in D.O.A.--the Last Tour in America (which, appropriately, failed to arrive in time for a Cannes screening), sub-titled, in mock self-denunciation, The Great Rock-and-Roll Swindle. The latter goes through agonized, pornographic, animated, insistent, transcontinental, and terminal lengths to prove that the Sex Pistols were nothing more than a "Cash from Chaos" scheme of their kilted manager Malcolm McLaren. It is not only fascinating, but convincing. Like the film's beleaguered production, its distribution is currently haltered, but you'll probably get a chance to see it someday. It's slick...