Word: leatherous
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...patches are still homemade, most now come from opportunistic manufacturers, who are spewing them forth in a dizzying variety; hearts, flowers, butterflies and a rainbow (usually worn across the hips) are popular. So are noncom stripes, Viet Nam insignia and Disney characters. There are metal studs and leather scraps, attached when and where the spirit dictates. There are even patches that reek (for a few weeks, anyway) of fresh fruit scents, while still others blazon credos: NOT TO DECIDE is TO DECIDE, for example...
...personalities will be too freaky. "Basically," she says, "people will wear anything they can get away with." New Yorker Jann Johnson, 24, carries the idea a logical step further: she has been embroidering her jeans with the story of her life. Her home, for example, is symbolized by a leather skyline of Manhattan; her California past is portrayed on a knee. "Actually," she hastily says, "they're not quite finished...
...tall, taut Assistant Secretary, John McNaughton, now dead, sweeping confident eyes across the map of the world and talking fast, very fast. Speaking ever so precisely of the potential of yet another of Saigon's revolving governments, the coatless Assistant Secretary of State William Bundy stretched out on his leather couch. Brooding over all loomed the peaked profile of Lyndon Johnson, secretive, holding his options open until the final moment, seemingly unwilling even to confide in himself what he would do next...
Pastiche of Satire. El Topo begins with the kind of burning, indelible imagery that promises great moviemaking. Dressed in black leather, the protagonist comes riding across the desert, his small son naked behind him on the saddle. Reaching a town that was recently the scene of a massive slaughter, he guides his horse over festering corpses, through puddles of blood steaming in the desert sun, and rides out again, seeking vengeance. He finds the villains, homicidal clowns wearing elaborate bandit outfits, and dispatches them in an orgy of dispassionate bloodletting...
...talk to the young: Joseph Blatchford, 37, head of the Peace Corps since early in the Administration and a unique figure in Nixon's button-down Washington. His sideburns are long, his hair falls over his shirt collar, and on occasion he has been seen sporting a fringed leather jacket. One morning during the Mayday demonstrations, Blatchford emerged from his Georgetown house into a crowd of militants. They watched suspiciously as he donned a white helmet and straddled his Yamaha 275 motorcycle. Unrecognized, he flashed the peace sign and rode off to work...