Word: midwestern
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Constitutionally protected grossness-edible underwear, the vibrators in the drugstore window, massage parlors, sex merchandised in its pervasive richness-has spread the pornographic spirit widely. The Twelfth Night Masque, the oldest private subscription ball in Chicago and hitherto a bastion of Midwestern decorum, has suffered a recent rash of crudity. Last year some guests showed up at the ball dressed as hemorrhoids when President Carter was so afflicted; two years before, when the masque theme was "The Father of Our Country," a number of Lake Shore socialites appeared as penises or sperm. No one proposes calling out a SWAT team...
...having fewer taste and odor problems. Says EPA's Swain: "We still have a long way to go before we solve the problems of toxic substances. Then there is a whole series of new environmental issues." Among them: sodium from the salt used during the winter on Midwestern roads, which drains into the lakes and may be an important element in feeding the undesirable blue-green algae. Also, Congress is considering extending winter navigation on the lakes...
Similar situations exist at Boston University, Wellesley College and MIT. But a midwestern school, the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, a handful of students have had their leases terminated for cohabitating, Marlene Mantyk, housing adviser, says. But John W. Finn, U of M's associate director of housing, says his office hears only of the extreme cases, and most complaints come from a few parents shocked to find out what college life is like now. Certainly personal and social freedom unknown to even recent alumni exists now on most campuses...
Whatever happens, McMullen has violated the I.R.A.'s code of silence. Says a Midwestern source heavily involved in fund raising for the I.R.A.: "McMullen was already sentenced to death in Ireland, but now they're going to get him here, wherever...
...they were psychos. Zozo and Yarco, Stoughton's hulky Cuban sentinels, pouncing upon each girl as she entered the dorm: "What did you do tonight?" (Avuncular whine) "Who were you with?" (Leer) "Were his roommates there?" (Snicker) "A lady wouldn't do that." (Dismissed); Rob, the awestruck and disoriented Midwestern roommate of the Death Poet, wandering about sadly, latching onto anyone who would listen, occasionally making conversation with the two calculator-addled physics jocks who haunted the stairs and discussed their SAT scores; the tall silent guy we nicknamed Frankenstein, stalking out at dusk, headed for God knew what...