Word: rude
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Dust on the Boulevard. Chibougamau's engulfing flood of men and money has produced only the slightest civilizing effects on a town that is still rude and crude. Cold westerly winds deliver a raw penetrating drizzle on one out of every two summer days. One night last week snow fell. Even so, cars churning through the town's main street-pridefully named the Boulevard-kick up clouds of chalk-colored dust; paved streets and sidewalks are still luxuries for the future. Chibougamau's population has shot up to more than 2,500 permanent residents; their new clapboard...
...fear that something like a rock 'n' roll riot was taking place. One of them was pleading with beaming Bandleader Ellington to stop. When the fellow's entreaties got too emphatic, Duke wagged a soothing finger at him and said mildly, "Don't be rude to the artists...
...uproarious Shavian tribute to the "undeserving poor." Harrison's costar, a 20-year-old English girl named Julie Andrews, plays the role of the flower girl with heart-lifting simplicity. Switching convincingly from whining cockney to fluting aristocrat, she is raucous as she squawks her indignation at the rude Professor Higgins, touching as she manfully struggles with a mouthful of marbles (when she swallows one, Higgins says cheerily: "Oh, don't worry, I have plenty more"), uproariously funny as she balances a teacup opening day at Ascot and betrays her elegant new accent with hopelessly vulgar reminiscences...
KHRUSHCHEV began his denunciation of Stalin by revealing two suppressed letters. One was written by Lenin's wife, Nadezhda Krupskaya, to Lev Kamenev, chief of the Politburo: "I beg of you to protect me from rude interference with my private life and from vile invectives and threats [by Stalin]." Lenin wrote direct to Stalin: "You permitted yourself a rude summons of my wife to the telephone and a rude reprimand of her ... I have no intention to forget so easily that which is being done against me ... I ask you therefore that you weigh carefully whether you are agreeable...
...bluejacket staggered through the thick odor and the rude sounds of the old port of Naples. A ragged urchin tugged and chanted at him: "You wanna girl, mister? I gotta my sister for you. Come on, Joe! Cheap!" the sailor pulled away, then slumped drunkenly to the sidewalk. Mouse-quick, the eight-year-old tried to grab the sailor's wallet, but the sailor weakly pushed him away. Unable to roll the man, the urchin sped away to sell him: in Naples bigger urchins pay 500 lire, perhaps 1,000 lire, for news of a likely victim to beat...