Word: mad
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Hampshire-Dartmouth: After just wasting all that space on such a dud of a game. I'd better start being more concise. Pick one Godzilla or Little Bo-Peep, Beaujolais or Mogan David Mad Dog. WBCN or WHRB. Biochem 110 or Soc Sci 152, Dartmouth or UNH. Look at it this way, one's big and beastly and one isn't. One's got class and one doesn't. One's entertaining and popular and one isn't. One is rough and grunty and one isn't. And finally, one team will be alive after this afternoon...
...trashing of the Center for International Affairs last spring gained few converts for the radical cause. The trashers justified their action on the grounds that the CFIA engages in counter insurgency research. This explanation, which conjures up images of mad scientists designing smart bombs is completely inaccurate. Realizing the fales of this allegation, many Harvard students were not only repulsed by the trashing as violence per se, but also saw it as totally senseless...
DAWES IS A GENIUS, half mad probably schizophrenic. He is the first serious representative of the television generation. Instead of quoting lines from books he quotes scenes from moves. But he is no ordinary boob-tube befriending hard, nor is he the acid rock counter-culture stereotype so predominant among his contemporaries in fiction. Mossman reveals this as he carefully describes growing up in Iowa after the war, through the rowdy-but never-un-American fifties and the confusing and almost decadent sixties...
...think it's almost pure-dee simple finally. I think he was just another mad run-of-the-mill old celt, like me, like you I suppose looking for a place, another deserted wood to stone himself off from them for awhile. You'll find out about them all right, you won't be able to help yourself, but when you do, just remember--just go about your business and pretend they was only passing through...
Pale Fire was Vladimir Nabokov's triumphant literary joke about the attempts of a mad pedant to write about the life and work of a poet whom he barely knew and whose qualities eluded him completely. The book seemed to be the very last laugh at the extremes of the New Criticism-destructive works of literary detection, prolix biographies, and any number of other sins against common sense and the simple enjoyment...