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Word: plasticizers (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 1970-1979
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Usage:

Fans are accommodated in seats, not surprisingly, all of which are leatherette-plastic and, happily, boast great sight lines and visual access to blow-up instant replay screens at either end of the field...

Author: By Richard S. Weisman, SPECIAL TO THE CRIMSON | Title: GIANTS STADIUM | 10/12/1976 | See Source »

...with which Smith ran his breakaway regime, friends suggest, reflects his personality as much as his politics. As a pilot flying Hawker Hurricanes in North Africa for the Royal Air Force during World War II, Smith barely survived a spectacular crackup on a takeoff. But after five months of plastic surgery in Cairo, during which his face had to be almost totally rebuilt, he was happily back flying fighter missions. Later he was shot down while strafing German positions in Italy, and found himself stranded far behind enemy lines. Eagerly playing guerrilla, Smith fought with a band of Italian partisans...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The World: THE MAN WHO CRIED UNCLE | 10/11/1976 | See Source »

...revue, liberated to let a lot of old-fashioned smut happily hang out." In short, Carte Blanche works best when the 14-member cast has its clothes on. That turns out to be most of the time. True, the opening scene has them emerging frontally naked from behind shiny, plastic drapes, but within seconds their bare bodies become moving screens for a slide show projecting brilliant patterns of Op art, leopard skins and whirls of color...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Show Business: Back on the Bawds | 10/11/1976 | See Source »

...that's a pity, for Fenway is a delightful anachronism in a baseball world that has been vulgarized in recent years by the construction, in places like Cincinnati, Philadelphia and Kansas City, of monstrous concrete-and-plastic ballparks...

Author: By John Donley, | Title: Fenway Park: The mystique lives on in Boston's Back Bay | 10/8/1976 | See Source »

...chicken-lady was the intruder who finally forced me on the road again. I first met her on the bus to my relative's house; she was the stout matron, slouched in a rear seat with lumpy plastic sacks packed against it. A younger woman staggered up the steps moaning, "God, I'm tired." So Stout, bridling at her gall, blurted, "Tired! What've you got to be tired about?" And the rest went sort of like this...

Author: By Anemona Hartocollis, | Title: Trapped in Perpetual Transit | 9/27/1976 | See Source »

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