Word: piped
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Hulot is the same Hulot, same pipe, same coat, same well-meaning, bland incompetence. This time he comes to preposterous unintentional grips with post-war prosperity, the modern source of the bourgeoisie that the French have ridiculed for a hundred years. And his skill for satire, apparent on only a personal level before, is strengthened by the theme and enhanced by his fuller control of the production. Tati's broadside satire of the modern scene is sharp, and cuts particularly deep since in America there don't seem to be even any shabby unsuccessful humanists left for a comparison--everybody...
With bold stride he advanced toward the first pipe he heard and thrust the ticket into an outstretched hand. He started to walk away but, reflecting that the ticket placed the object of his magnamimity next to him, slowed up and said, "Come on, we'll miss the kickoff," in a gruff masculine voice. Together, Vag and the urchin passed through the turnstile and out onto Soldiers Field...
...McCarthy, onetime St. John's University economics professor and ten-year Congressman, was 1) a Catholic, and 2) an all-too-arch egghead type from St. Paul who might just get massacred by Ed Thye in the farm counties. The D.F.L. decided that folksy Governor Freeman, a lead-pipe cinch for reelection, would give up some of his anticipated 200,000 majority to concentrate on working for Gene McCarthy in what Master Planner Humphrey called "a unified campaign." Specifically theD.FL.: ¶ Ignored the political rule that candidates traveling and handshaking separately get more crowd exposure, sent Freeman and/or Humphrey...
...came the wondrous news. A rescuer at the 13,000-ft. level heard a faint call from the broken end of a compressed-air pipe sticking from the rubble. He yelled back, heard an answering croak: "There are twelve of us in here. Come and get us.'' That they did. Swiftly, yet with infinite care, the rescuers dug toward the entombed men, both sides shouting happy obscenities. A burr-tongued Scotsman yelled through the pipe, got the reply: "Take the marbles out of your mouth and talk English." The rescue team shoved a copper tube through the steel...
About those cigars. The book discloses to the world that Churchill smoked them only halfway: it was Norman's duty to collect the halves and take them in a special box to Kearns, one of the Chartwell gardeners, who smoked them in his pipe. Churchill smoked only nine cigars a day, says Norman, on the defensive about his guv'nor's habits, but he admits they were strong enough to make Prince Georg of Denmark (a nonsmoker) violently sick after three puffs. As for whisky. Churchill was always at it. But Norman explains that the mixture (with...