Word: plaids
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...Forever Plaid. Indefinite run. In Stuart Ross's tribute to the "guy groups" of the `50s and `60s, the Plaids, a semi-pro harmony group killed on the eve of their first big-time gig, have come back from the dead to croon their tunes. Boston Park Plaza Hotel, 64 Arlington St., Boston. Call 357-8384 for more information...
...strange how many ghosts hover around Somalia. There is, of course, the big dark ghost of Vietnam, that formative evil myth of Clinton's generation. That war, like the Somalia conflict, was dominated by images injected into the American psyche -- the Viet Cong in a plaid shirt being shot in the head point-blank by Saigon's police chief during the Tet offensive, for example. The experience of Vietnam issues its warnings ("quagmire" and so on), but strangely, Bill Clinton the old war resister last week used much the same rhetoric of steadfastness and honor that Lyndon Johnson used when...
...Forever Plaid. In Stuart Ross's tribute to the "guy groups" of the '50s and '60s, the Plaids, a semi-pro harmony group killed on the eve of their first big-time gig, have come back from the dead to croon their tunes, Boston Park Plaza Hotel, 64 Arlington St., Boston. Call 357-8384 for more information...
While driving his quarry to the chop shop, Wills kept a red plaid scarf -- his trademark -- wrapped tightly around the steering column to hide the damage and avoid suspicion. He used the same red material to block the warehouse's windows and keep out prying eyes. A stern taskmaster, he forbade drug use by employees and demanded that they keep the garage immaculate. Oil spills were mopped instantly, while car parts were piled like groceries -- in perfect stacks. Ever wily, he split his operation into distinct divisions: thieves and choppers. No one but Wills knew the complete workings...
...preponderance of alumni at our games. They just don't make for the same excitement. The corporate lawyer banging on the glass screaming "You SUCK!" is an image no one, especially the corporate lawyer, could ever imagine. The Radcliffe grad in a plaid ankle length skirt asking friends and strangers for the best private preschool would never belch. "Fat this, Terriers!" from the balcony...