Word: lorded
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Jesus. It looks like any other bar on the outside, only it isn't. Men stand three and four deep at this bar-some just feeling a sense of belonging here, others making contacts for new sexual partners. This isn't very much like a church, Lord, but many members of the church are also here in this bar. Quite a few of the men here belong to the church as well as to this bar. If they knew how, a number of them would ask you to be with them in both places. Some of them wouldn...
...bumper to bumper, and the traffic is stalled. I want to get home, Lord, but the traffic won't move. Really, it's too much. Don't ask me to be patient. Okay. I'll try some more to be human, but it's nearly been knocked out of me for one day. Stay with me; I can't do it alone. Jesus, thanks for sweating it out with me out here on this highway...
...Lord is a costume epic with an unusual theme. Its hero, quite as usual, is Charlton Heston, playing a misspent 11th-century knight who falls heir to a small and dreary Norman fief on the coast of the North Sea. "There's a strangeness in this place," Heston remarks. And his servant Richard Boone nods sagely, like a man who knows a godforsaken frontier town when he sees one. Heston's castle is a tacky stronghold, one lone tower surrounded by sullen villagers and under constant threat of attack by swarms of large blond barbarians wearing identical wigs...
Amidst its famine of pleasures, War Lord affords a feast of anachronisms, the choicest assigned to his lordship's quarrelsome sibling (Guy Stockwell, brother of Dean), who ends one clash with the withering retort: "I hate your knightly guts." Scenarists Millard Kaufman and John Collier share credit for this adaptation of The Lovers, a somber play by Leslie Stevens that lasted less than a week on Broadway. The movie version runs on and on and on, but proves nothing whatever about the survival of the fittest...
...Blowup. All that is known for certain is that on the morning of Feb. 10, 1567, conspirators ignited a massive charge of gunpowder and demolished Kirk o'Field, a royal residence where Lord Darnley, Mary's dissolute young husband, lay recovering from a severe case of pox that most likely was secondary syphilis. But Darnley was not a victim of the blast. In some manner, which has always bemused and tantalized historians, he and a servant got away to a nearby garden, where they were waylaid and strangled...