Word: rosee
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...visit with wounded Viet Nam veterans at Walter Reed Hospital, he appeared before a high-spirited crowd of 6,000 Democrats at a $100-a-plate dinner in Washington and unloosed an oldfashioned, stump politician's spellbinder-and, this time, some far broader barbs at Fulbright. When Johnson rose to speak, he glanced a dozen seats down the head table where the Arkansas Senator sat. Said the President: "I am delighted to be here tonight with many of my very old friends-as well as some members of the Foreign Relations Committee." Chairman Fulbright, wearing a thin smile, rose...
...state budgets), welfare, and public health was lagging behind the postwar growth in the cost of living and the size of the private sector. In the last ten years, the states have been making up this lost ground. Most notably, expenditures on education have more than doubled as costs rose and the postwar baby boom came...
Died. Walter S. Gifford, 81, president and then chairman of A. T. &T. from 1925 to 1950, who rose from stock clerk (at $10 a week) to chief (at $250,000 a year) by the time he was 40, is credited with expanding assets from $3 billion to $10 billion by pushing phone service into every world city, which he sold to the public through a broad-based stock ownership that now boasts 2,840,500 holders of A.T.&T.'s 529 million shares; of complications following a hip injury; in Manhattan...
...good pun and a useful one in a century overburdened with Bonapartes. Like a swarm of corpulent drones they rose from the thickets of Corsica and fell with a sodden thump on the sinecures of empire. Noisy, ugly, greedy, provincial, quarrelsome, ostentatious, lewd and downright criminal, they terrorized Europe off and on from 1801 to 1870 and frightened Napoleon himself almost as much as the Grand Alliance did. All through his reign they ridiculed, insulted and cheated him, and when he needed them most a number of them cynically betrayed him to his enemies. Of all modern dynasties, the Bonapartes...
Irish Garrulity. It is not a book the way a rose is a rose. It is a book about a book about a man writing a book about characters who write a book about him. Under cover of this preposterous stratagem, O'Brien parodies, satirizes and otherwise spoofs a number of Irish social and literary conventions. Among them: the realistic novel, the bardic gigantism of Celtic literature, the circumlocutions of Irish journalism, the Irish anecdote, Irish prudery, and, in its wonderfully garrulous way, Irish garrulity itself...