Word: mio
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...delayed by dock strikes) were uncrated. The U.S. entrants, a rather pallid and particular group of seven "cool" hard-and soft-edge abstractionists, were conceded to be out of the race anyway, since Americans won both the last São Paulo and Venice biennials. The Grande Prémio (a gold medal, shorn by poverty of its usual cash bonus) was split between Italy's Alberto Burri and France's Victor Vasarely...
RICHARD TUCKER: THE ART OF BEL CANTO (Columbia). The great American tenor sings the ravishingly beautiful songs and arias (Caro mio ben, Gid il sole dal Gange) that constitute the canon of bel canto. His vocal line, the essential element in bel canto, is lyrical, firm and without breaks. There are more sensual interpretations of the art, but few more satisfying...
...twitchers. Both New York Senators?Jacob Javits and his wife Marion ("My husband and I just love to frug"), and Bobby Kennedy and Ethel ("I can't believe all that action on such a small floor")?make the discotheque scene. Jackie Kennedy, on her occasional visits to Il Mio, does a sedate version of the frug. Adlai Stevenson, the Maharani of Baroda, and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor have not progressed much beyond the twist, but Walter Cronkite's variations on the frug are a wonder to behold...
...Nazis and the Communists at the same time. Furtive and suspicious, he suffered psychotic episodes and occasionally flirted with suicide. He tried heroin and hashish. For years, he once confessed, he was a compulsive masturbator. He wrote love letters in baby talk, named his women like horses (Babu Mio, My Golden Girl), and guzzled bromide by the bottle. He was a fiercely vocal champion of artistic integrity who forced publishers to print the works of half-baked eccentrics. He was a noisily relentless foe of vested interests and social injustice who admired Machiavelli and kept a wad of money...
...town of Poggibonsi suddenly realizes he has forgotten his driver's license. Che male fortuna, it's in his pants pocket at home. So he whirls the truck around and heads back. When he rings the doorbell, his wife leans out the window. "What's wrong, mio caro?" she asks sweetly. "I forgot my license." "Wait, I'll throw it down to you," she chirps. Back on the road to Rome, the truck driver is stopped by the police for a routine check. The driver's license he produces isn't his. Double take...