Word: rude
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Double Denouncing. The three-day gun fight at Ambelikou last week dramatized a new Greek Cypriot tactic. It began when the Turkish Cypriot villagers used a bulldozer to widen a rude hill path leading to Lefka, which is also Turkish-controlled. Any attempt to improve road communications or to move villagers to larger Turkish towns is met with force. The Makarios government argues that a concentration of the island's minority would play into Turkey's hands by giving Ankara a beachhead for invasion. The Turks protest that the Greeks want to keep Turkish Cypriots well scattered...
...achieving racial integration and academic innovation in Pittsburgh had been brilliant. But Pittsburgh, with its 75,000 students and its tight, cooperative civic-power structure, is not New York, with its 1,060,000 students and its vast, indifferent establishment. Last week the mild-mannered Gross got a rude shove...
...still calls reporters in for occasional off-the-cuff conferences, Johnson's affair with the press as a whole has temporarily soured. Reporters have begun to reminisce nostalgically about the Eisenhower and Kennedy years when press conferences were regularly scheduled well ahead of time and there were no rude surprises, no unventilated rooms with not enough chairs to go around. It would almost seem they have already forgotten how much they grumbled about Ike's scrambled syntax and Kennedy's agility at ducking embarrassing questions...
...dominates. "I've always wanted to stay in the background," he insists, primping his scraggly, Prince Valiant locks. But his attire could hardly be called a camouflage. Standard costume: stiletto-pointed boots with three-inch Cuban heels, tight pants, cloth cap, Davy Crockett pullover. He ignores the rude hoots that greet his progress down the street, confides that "in case of real trouble I could literally kill a guy. I've studied karate for years...
...thought to be formidably reserved, but that was because he did not like casual chatter and hated to be lionized. Among close friends, he was unfailingly good company. His grave courtesy concealed astringent wit; he also liked jokes of the kind where the cushion, when sat on, makes a rude noise. He was tirelessly, patiently encouraging to young poets who wrote or sent manuscripts to him at Faber & Faber, the London publishing house where for many years he was a partner...