Word: potted
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...women." In the rosy Socialist future, he promised, every Indonesian girl of marriageable age will have a husband, a radio and a modern kitchen (thus making a piker of Herbert Hoover, who in 1928 campaigned under the Republican slogan that merely promised U.S. women "a chicken in every pot and a car in every garage"). Capitalism, Sukarno said disdainfully, is "a man's world"; only under Socialism do women have plenty of time for "companionship, motherhood and love." Under a capitalistic society, "marriage has become a difficult economic problem. Many men here would like to marry, but they haven...
...Melting Pot. All over the country, belly clubs have never been bigger, especially in Detroit, Boston and Chicago, and even in small towns; one of the best dancers, a Turkish girl named Semra, works at a roadhouse outside Bristol, Conn. The girls are kept booked and moving by several agents, notably voluble, black-bearded Murat Somay, a Manhattan Turk who is the Sol Hurok of the central abdomen. He can offer nine Turkish girls, plans to import at least 15 more. But a great many of the dancers are more or less native. Sometimes they get their initial experience...
...girls come to belly dancing from this and other origins, the melting pot has never bubbled more intriguingly. Some Manhattan examples...
...Ghana, if a child should die before it is nine days old, the Fanti simply stuff its remains in a pot and throw it on the trash heap-they take the child's hasty departure as an insult and feel no obligation to respect the departed. Among Orthodox Jews, when two dead men arrive for burial at a cemetery, the more learned of the two, according to Talmudic prescription, must be buried first. In the U.S. Northwest and British Columbia, the Salish Indians dispose of their dead by rolling an avalanche over them. In China, since the Communists took...
Despite some mob money invested here and there, the U.S. is not going to pot in the smoky grottoes of Manhattan, and no Gibbon is going to find his Decline and Fall in them. He would find much expensive tastelessness, along with some great entertainers who are really worth the cover charge, and if his taste is jazz, he would find the best around. But all together, the clubs probably pull fewer rivets out of civilization than, for example, a single lunch counter on 14th Street, which is S.R.O. now in the Nativity season, under a towering sign: THE PRINCE...