Word: prickingly
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Jesters, and all those who find in the world's armor of convention the vulnerable joints through which to prick with tiny irritating shafts and barbs have always been a persecuted brotherhood. When jesters were really in fashion, the indignities were such uncomfortably tangible things as straw-beds, and a monkey or two to share the couch. In latter days, Puritans, police and preachers contrive to make life at least exciting for the Merry Andrews, and, incidentally, to provide further food for fun. But not until now, so far as we can tell, has merriment and its disciples been subjected...
...five years the farm-threat has hung dagger-like above the Republican party. But so impotent has been the Democratic party that the farmers have never let the dagger drop except to prick here and there a political life. For three and one-half years, President Coolidge has unequivocally opposed every farm bill which the farm bloc desired. And, while he has not signed any of the bills which the farm bloc did not want, he has never offered any plan of relief. He has confined himself to advising farmers to cooperate on their own initiative. Hitherto, the President...
...Engineer Ogle and others have made painless death a reality at Sing Sing. Once it took three shocks to kill; now only one is necessary. Properly applied electric current reaches the brain in 1/240 of a second; thus, the loss of consciousness is almost instantaneous. Compared to this, the prick of a needle at the base of the skull (taking 1/10 of a second to reach the brain) is sluggish...
...venture was a penny arcade. Marcus Loew has turned that penny arcade into 350 theatres. "A Loew House in Every Town," his employes proudly proclaim - and the boast is true, or very nearly. Every evening, as twilight blows westward across the continent, the light of countless theatrical facades prick out his name in lights like little yellow dollars. "Loew" they twinkle, "Loew" they wink; they seem to be calling him, and for a while Marcus Loew responded by dashing perpetually from one to another. Then, tired of Pullman cars, he bought, for a million dol lars, the Long Island palace...
...This is Lampy's conception of the proposed Memorial Chapel, for besides being an amusing caricature of the contemplated steeple, it manages to show up in high relief the absurdities of the design as reproduced in the CRIMSON last week. The editors may congratulate themselves on having helped to prick another bubble. It is to be regretted only that they do not perform this useful service with greater regularity...