Word: matings
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Have a fag, mate," cracked Ringo Starr. Neither twin was very tony. Still it was hard to tell them apart until someone asked if the real Beatles would please sit down. The ones with the wax between their ears didn't move, and fans at London's Madame Tussaud's were finally sure which was which. Louis Armstrong knocked the rag mops off the top of Variety's singles chart last week, and the whisper was that they had passed their peak. But if their graven images at the world's foremost wax museum were...
Later, when Steve gets an eyeful of Natalie's cleavage ("Hey, you really look like a woman") he decides she wouldn't make such a bad mate after all. What if Natalie had been an ugly bag good for a one night stand? Well, we're not supposed to ask those questions. Still, the happy ending seems a good sign; the transgressors get off pretty lightly. A few years ago the moviegoing public would have demanded a little more suffering for such a sportive fling...
...Administration, he voted for the Taft-Hartley Act, and the unionists neither forgave nor forgot; in 1960 Johnson was the only major candidate for the Democratic presidential nomination who was opposed by Big Labor, and Walter Reuther protested volubly against Johnson's being named Kennedy's running mate. But by last week labor had come full circle - almost...
Replacing Lechín on the M.N.R. ticket stirred up an unexpected storm. Paz hand-picked lackluster Senate President Federico Fortún Sanjinés as his new running mate, thereby offending several prominent right-wing M.N.R. leaders, whose vice-presidential choice was General René Barrientos Ortuño, 44, Bolivia's crewcut, U.S.-trained air force commander. Unmoved by their protests, Paz was all set to send Barrientos into semi-exile as ambassador to London, a classic Bolivian ploy for settling intraparty disputes. Then, late one night last month, Barrientos was mysteriously ambushed and shot...
...chronicle, Becket distorts history, Saxonizes the Norman Becket, and even turns Henry's formidable mate, Eleanor of Aquitaine (Pamela Brown), into a dull castle frump. As tragedy, it has more dry intelligence than real depth. As production, it stunningly displays its homework in the solid sweep of Norman arches, the mist-and-heath-er greens of old England. But in the end it holds interest chiefly as a pageant so prodigally endowed with talent that it can, for example, afford to squander Sir John Gielgud in a minor role as Louis VII of France...