Word: plopped
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With quiet desperation, they are living out a horror story, the seventh age of man. It is strikingly like the first age. They chat a lot, but it is much like babies' babble, unfinished, noncom-municative. They tire easily and plop down like small children at the first available resting place. Mealtime is the pinnacle of the day. In between, they conduct a kind of innocuous sandbox flirtation, brief as a toddler's attention span, with two women inmates, Dandy Nichols and Mona Washbourne, one of whom has a reputation for wetting herself. At odd, unprovoked moments, each...
...neat middle-aged executive peers out from the television screen. "Hello," he says, his face crinkling into a sheepish grin. "I'm from General Telephone." Boos and hisses explode off-camera. "Now, I'm aware that General Telephone provides less than adequate service." Plop. A rotten tomato slides down his chin. "But we're spending $200 million in California this year on improving our service." He is hit with an egg. "Cables, switches, personnel, everything." A cream pie splatters over his face. "Thank you for your patience," he mumbles through...
...sent to bake in the Herbal Wrap Room, a darkened chamber with a flickering brick fireplace. As you climb onto a bed, you are rolled like a tortilla into sheets soaked in a steaming brew of "21 exotic Oriental herbs." When done to a spicy turn, you plop into a hydrother-apeutic bath frothing with sesquicar-bonates, lithium chloride, magnesium sulfate, hexachlorophene-everything, presumably, but cyclamates. BELLY BUDGETING. More appetizing recipes are offered in the spa's dietetic dining room. There guests bend over their menus like accountants, busily subtracting a prune whip (40 calories) here and adding...
...stand in a waterfall, or take a "shower" of refreshing air. Or plop into an egg-shaped easy chair and catch a minute's snooze. Or sit in a moss-covered booth and cast your I Ching. The idea behind these and other "Contemplation Environments," currently on display at Manhattan's Museum of Contemporary Crafts, is to provide a peaceful corner in the bustle of city life where any and all might stop for a moment to think, muse, daydream or simply enjoy a quiet interlude. That prospect alone was enough to make New Yorkers venture...
...crowd, without registering hardly any emotional response, began moving slowly but obediently up 12th Street. Up 12th, between the massive, dark blocks that were the buildings of Internal Revenue and Interstate Commerce. I kept getting these flashes of old war movies I had seen where a bomb would plop down right next to your buddy, and you'd see the thing coming at him, and, balm, your buddy would be gone. But none of these bombs were really exploding. I found myself laughing, and shouting happily to someone beside me. "Wow, they're using all the goddamn stuff...