Word: mister
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1990-1999
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Certainly, there is a case to be made for this. Honorifics are basically dead. The idea of agonizing over "Ms." seems quaint because the idea of calling anybody "Mister" or "Missus" or indeed anything other than "Hey, you" has faded away. Go into Abercrombie & Fitch, and the teenage sales clerks read your name off your credit card like you were both going to Riverdale High together...
...three other classmates in his undergrad days at the University of Chicago, has produced four major projects to date. "Columbian Inventions" (a collection of songs in honor/protest of Columbus Day), "Buster Crabbe" (celebrating the life of the actor who played Tarzan, Superman, and other macho characters in early movies), "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood: The Twelve-Tone Rock Opera," "Liquid Dwarf, Rusty Dwarf" (an album boasting songs such as "Barbecue of Love" and "Petrified Vomit"), and "Petrified Barbecue" (greatest hits) all belong to the band's repertoire...
...What's next for the Redundant Steaks? "We're working on a 12-tone rock opera based on Mister Roger's Neighborhood." Convinced the show is sinister, Ribeye dedicated an entire Web page to a parody of the show. Unfortunately, neither Mister Rogers nor his lawyers found the page very humorous, and it has been removed. The Steaks have since concentrated their efforts on the rock opera, which features puppets. "Puppets are always sinister because their eyes don't move and/or they have wooden heads and fake hair," he deadpans. "And in Mister Roger's neighborhood they're rendered even...
DIED. ELLA MAE MORSE, 75, ebullient, genre-defying vocalist whose Cow-Cow Boogie was Capitol Records' first million-selling hit; in Bullhead City, Ariz. Among Morse's other signatures were House of Blue Lights, Shoo-Shoo Baby, and Mister Five by Five...
...prone to touching strangers randomly and shouting insults like "Eat me Mister Dicky-weed!" becoming a detective is probably not the most obvious career move. Case in point: Lionel Essrog, a Brooklyn P.I. who can't shoot a gun but can spend the better part of a stakeout obsessing over the numerical integrity of his meal (six White Castle burgers at 6:45). He's got Tourette's syndrome and--by the end of the first chapter of Jonathan Lethem's Motherless Brooklyn (Doubleday; 311 pages; $23.95)--a dead boss on his hands...