Word: pawing
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Thanksgiving dinner, a python crawls halfway into the pig's pen, eats the pig, finds itself trapped. To catch langur monkeys, he makes a one-inch hole in a coconut shell, puts rice inside. The monkey can reach into the shell but can not withdraw its closed paw with the rice...
...lemon, oranges, a grapefruit, potatoes, filled whiskey and milk bottles, by Club Secretary Dr. Henry Amabric Bancel. Dr. Walter Beran Wolfe showed a polychromed terra cotta Self Portrait with black lips, a plaster pictorialization of his name which consisted of a bear with a W in his left paw astride a wolf. The latter he called a "glyptogram." Dr. Frank H. Netter had a courteous portrait of Dr. Charles Norris, New York's Chief Medical Examiner. Opthalmologist Percy Fridenberg, club president, was represented by a series of vague flowers which he made by drawing on wood, cardboard or metal...
Walter Haigh, son of an old employe of an old established textile firm, was a little too ambitious and enthusiastic for his own good. Foxy Leonard Tasker, an expert not only in manufacturing but in juggling a balance sheet, thought Walter would make a hard-working cat's-paw. With no trouble he lured Walter away from his job, set him up as figurehead of one of his own mills. For a while Walter thought he was being very successful. His quick rise brought him up the necessary social notches that separated him from the girl of his dreams...
What distinguishes Sons of the Desert from other Laurel & Hardy comedies is less its plot than the presence in the cast of Charley Chase, a lanky, glib comedian with a mouse-paw mustache and a moron's chuckle. Appearing at the Chicago convention as a Son of the Desert from Texas, Charley Chase greets Laurel & Hardy when they arrive from California by whacking them with a paddle. He invites them to his table and puts in a long distance call for his sister in Los Angeles. who turns out to be Hardy's wife. Stupid Charley Chase does...
...land. For Mr. Truex though good, was not what he might have been. The most satisfactory figure in the film, to this reviewer's mind, was Hercules, a broken nervous wreck of a man, standing six-foot-six in bearskin and beard, holding his monstrous cub in his right paw, and biting the finger nail's of his left in panicky fear of a small chorine trundling a wooden sword in his direction...