Word: potatoed
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...perform all the latest dances and are local heroes to every adolescent. Chief among these starlets is Amber Von Tussle, a snooty princess whose mom, Miss Soft Crab of 1945, pours all her ambition into Amber. Every afternoon the pouty miss must practice the cha-cha and the Mashed Potato under Mom's eagle eye. "I want you to get more close-ups on that show," Mom admonishes, "or I'm sending you to Catholic school!" Eeuuuu...
...Kirkus is deeply moved by "In the Beginning was the Ghetto: 890 Days in Lodz" by Oskar Rosenfeld, translated by Brigitte Goldstein (Northwestern; November), giving it a starred review. "'Who in future times will believe that human beings fought each other over a potato?' So asks this utterly unsentimental, open-eyed, harrowing portrait of ghetto life during the Holocaust...Rosenfeld was a modestly successful writer of novels and novellas when the Nazi Anschluss forced him to flee to Prague. Following the German conquest of Czechoslovakia, he was transported to the ghetto of Lodz, Poland, where he was put to work...
Miller was a “meat and potatoes kind of guy,” McNitt said, and accordingly the reception featured a carving station with tenderloin and lamb and a mashed potato bar “done in a way that he just loved...
...more satirical Oliver Beene acknowledges that the '60s were not all cheap catharsis and the Mashed Potato. Whereas American Dreams' touchstone is Bandstand, Beene's is Lenny Bruce, who is the idol of the 11-year-old protagonist (Grant Rossenmeyer). The pilot finds the family hunkering in a basement bomb shelter during the Cuban missile crisis, with the parents squabbling over who will dispose of any bodies they find outside. ("It's always me!" Mom grouses. "Doing the dishes, washing the windows, burying the dead!") "I think any warm and fuzzy image of the past is wrong," says creator Howard...
...when the streets start filling with (in Britspeak) beautiful young things in flowing academic gowns on the way to formal hall (translation: fancy dinner), where the fellows of the College file out to High Table and give grace in Latin, presumably in gratitude for not having to eat the potato concoction served earlier at regular dinner. My own defining Cambridge moment took place at a private tutorial dinner at Corpus Christi College, when I was asked by the head tutor what I was reading in supervision. When I replied that I was in the middle of Dr. Faustus, she gestured...