Word: numbs
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...stepped out of the bathtub and smithereened a plastic cup lying on the linoleum where, limp-armed, he had dropped it. He hopped on one leg to hold the twinge of pain, new pain he couldn't numb because that cup had served him the last of the gin bright September day: he just back from the war, starched Air Force uniform, two rows of colored ribbons on his chest, bound for glory; she just back from her high-class wartime job in Washington, home to marry the hero. But after the fourth mewling baby, she went to work...
...stepped out of the bathtub and smithereened a plastic cup lying on the linoleum where, limparmed, he had dropped it. He hopped on one leg to hold the twinge of pain, new pain he couldn't numb because that cup had served him the last of the gin the night before. He careened against the wall and his shoulder erupted again in fire. It seared, like it had last night when the lizard-skin boots kept swinging into him, fireballs exploding when they landed. He had already made himself forget whoever it was attached to the boots...
...subject Zappa has always handled most masterfully is mass America: crass commercialism, media hype, and the other things that numb our minds. From his songs of 1965 "Who Are the Brain Police?", to his more recent commemoration of television "I Am the Slime," Zappa has to his credit rock's choicest statements on mass euthanasia (though admittedly, because their babies are treatin' them bad, other songwriters rarely address such topics). Zappa's critical eye looked beyond the government and Vietnam to the covert "moral faseism" of American society. While others lambast politicians and corporate honchos, he criticizes everything and everyone...
John Maynard Keynes couldn't have put it better when he said, "In the long run we are all dead." But despite cold weather cramps, bursting blisters and thighs numb from 26.2 miles of cement, thousands of death-defying runners triumphantly crossed the Prudential Center finish line Monday...
...barely begun to fade. And here they are, by any measure a full year too soon, about to assault us once again. So brace yourself for those film clips of frigid handshakes at the gates of bleak factories, with candidates snorting white steam from mouths and nostrils, of flinty, numb voters nodding vacantly at vacant campaign promises; of parka-encased reporters up to their knees in snow, watching and waiting in vain for a phrase or a glance that will rise above the level of the completely forgettable...