Word: plugged
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...simply describing a cheaper Palm here, which misses the genius of Handspring: the Visor has a proprietary slot in the back--a data port called Springboard--that allows you to plug in an array of different devices. Within the year, you'll be able to buy Springboard modules from other manufacturers that convert the thing into a cell phone, pager, global-positioning device, universal remote, MP3 player and more. It's a radically cool idea; in the marketing parlance of the company, it makes the Visor "infinitely expandable," allowing you to choose the devices you need to add functionality...
Things we don't know: Will the Springboard add-ons really work? Although I've been trying out the Visor for the past few weeks, cool modules won't be ready for months. The only plug-in I had was a bland Tiger Woods Golf game cartridge, and let me tell you, the proof is definitely not in the putting. No, it looks as if I'll have to wait months more to see if this is the Uber-gadget. And write about PDAs yet again...
...many of the players that had difficulty stopping the run last year, it now boasts eight seniors in the starting lineup. Moreover, the Crimson has changed its scheme to have the defensive linemen stay with the offensive line a little longer to free up room for the linbackers to plug any holes. The Lions' runners should have difficulty finding daylight...
...political process; in the last presidential election, donors flooded $260 million in soft money into both political parties. Corporations, unions and foreign entities that were all otherwise barred from donating money were able to sneak donations into the parties' pockets. The bills before the House this fall would plug the soft-money loophole, mandating that soft money would fall under the same regulations and restrictions as the money that is donated to individual campaigns...
...scolds, know-it-alls, flatterers, braggarts, blowhards, loudmouths, balloon-juice merchants--choose your epithet. They were in love with the sound of their own voice. They wouldn't shut up. You could gag them with terry cloth, wrap them in cellophane, dump them in the Mariana Trench--you could plug your ears with a Walkman and crank up a Def Leppard CD to 10--and still you'd hear the little tinny yap-yap of some office seeker promising cleaner streets, safer subways, cavity-free teeth. There was no end to the talking. It was inescapable, depressing, mind numbing. Those...