Word: nights
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Jean Mourani. 23-arrived in nearby Tripoli with their cousin. Father Georges Mourani. 34. Hiring a taxi, the three Syrians set out in the rainswept dusk for Kobeyat, passing through a spectral countryside of deserted, barren hills. As they rounded a curve on the approach to the village, the night crackled with gunfire. Father Genadrios was killed in the first fusillade. The cabby stopped his car and fled...
...five days and nights, she came apart at the seams more often than an overloaded grocery bag. Apart from the day she pendulated across the Avenida Atlântica glued into her briefest bikini (thus causing a three-car crash), almost nothing stayed on. That night, as she danced in the Copacabana Palace Golden Room, an enterprising Brazilian yanked on the zipper at the back of her dress and. presto, 0 Busto was bare to the waist...
...Next night a second zipper failed as she stepped from her car. Beyond repair, said Jayne, and changed into the skimpiest of green shorts, a halter and blouse. She drank, danced-and shed her blouse. The topper came when weight-lifting Hubby Mickey ("0 Musculo") Hargitay performed his famed stunt of hoisting Jayne horizontally into the air over the crowd. The crowd, getting ready for Lent, ogled...
This month Photographer Tsuchiya published his pictures. Samples: loinclothed priests playing mah-jongg instead of sitting in immobile meditation, a priest drinking with a bar hostess, two novices staggering along a Kobe street late at night with a barmaid between them. Tsuchiya quoted one priest as saying: "By listening to good music and gazing on ikibosatu [the living Buddha], I feel I can understand the teachings." This wisdom was Tsuchiya's caption for a photograph of the same priest happily gaping at pictures of virtually naked women...
...itself an unZen act). Wailed one: "When we sit long hours in meditation, the blood tends to collect around our loins. It's natural for us to seek outlets." That was no surprise to some cynical Japanese, who say that novice Zen priests often slip anchor at night after the temple supervisor goes home. Many steer straight for the local brothel, where the madam courteously bundles them inside without obtrusive haggling at the door. Others hold frequent cookouts near the temple, wolfing down undercover banquets to fatten a temple diet of soybean soup and boiled radishes...