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...skin swells and turns a swamp color; her hair gets sticky and snaky; her voice comes out the croak of a just-cured male mute; convulsions contort her body and it flips like a wounded crocodile's tail; she drools green gook when she is not squirting vomit (pea soup) into the faces of the psychiatrists and priests who come to treat her. Before the guests at her mother's dinner party she urinates on the carpet; she smashes a psychiatrist in the groin; strapped to her bed she makes drawers open and windows crash and the furniture move...

Author: By Emily Fisher, | Title: Screaming Yellow Zombies | 1/25/1974 | See Source »

...those of us who first grasped for maturity during the decade past, a Dylan concert is a three-hour detour through deja vu. Like images on Plato's cave, Clearasil coeds with Joan Baez hair and men silently hunkered inside thick pea jackets appear and quickly pass- yesterday's graduate students, now headed toward paunch or pregnancy. Dylan concerts draw people who inhabited the fringes of campus teach-ins, rode Mississippi freedom buses and marched down endless University Avenues searching for an end to the draft...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Music: Dylan: Once Again, It's Alright Ma | 1/21/1974 | See Source »

Suggesting that he resign, when it is doubtful that sufficient evidence exists for impeachment (to say nothing about the odds of finding him guilty), is just about as silly as firing the captain and crew of a damaged jetliner while they are fighting for a successful landing in a pea-soup fog. Who would take over...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Letters, Nov. 26, 1973 | 11/26/1973 | See Source »

CAMBRIDGE PUPPET PLAYHOUSE. Little Red Riding Hood and The Princess and the Pea, Saturday...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: the Stage | 10/11/1973 | See Source »

...that will be most affected. Residents are justifiably worried that their green and pleasant countryside will turn into a nightmarish octopus of access roads and tracks leading to and from the tunnel terminus. Complained William Hunt, 46, of Newington: "We don't count. We're like a pea on top of a mountain. If they don't want us, they just flick us away...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The World: A Chunnel for the Great Wet Ditch | 9/24/1973 | See Source »

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