Word: schoolchildren
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...come to discuss the antics of the Red Dean of Canterbury, who returned from Communist China with tall Canterbury Tales, including one about Chinese schoolchildren with chopsticks picking up American-sown germs. All Britain was roused by the latest irresponsible utterances of the pro-Communist Hewlett Johnson, 78-year-old Dean of Canterbury Cathedral. The Archbishop's measured words combined a defense of the Dean's tenure with a scathing denunciation of his behavior. "I am particularly affected by the Dean's activity," the Archbishop reminded his peers, "for the reason that many people believe that...
After his inauguration last month, Governor Aloé quickly found his tongue in public. Vociferously he cried that he will not tolerate any sub-bureaucrat "who does not think as the governor thinks." He especially concentrated his conformist zeal on the brainwashing of schoolchildren...
...said that thousands of Chinese schoolchildren had been trained in anti-germ warfare: as soon as the alarm is given, the children spread over the countryside and gather up the germ-carrying insects with chopsticks. This was too much even for Britain's pink and gullible New Statesman and Nation, which had itself taken the germ charges seriously. Now it had to admit that they had been "laughed out of court" by the Red Dean's performance...
...Istanbul last week, the old and long-dying mistrust was set to rest: the old enemies were now allies. Schoolchildren waved paper Greek flags and shouted a newly taught word: "Zito!" (meaning "long live" in Greek) as King Paul and Queen Frederika debarked from the cruiser Helle. It was the first visit ever paid to Turkey by Greek monarchs. A gleaming white presidential train took the visitors off to Ankara for a station-side reception by President Celal Bayar and Premier Adnan Menderes. High point of the visit would come when the Greek monarchs placed a wreath on the tomb...
There is Dincher the trumpeter, who thinks he can trade hot licks with Louis Armstrong; Timmy the homosexual dancer; Louella, a kittenish advance-guard poetess who wants to hang out with real cats; an impotent sadist who pushes (sells) junk to schoolchildren, and a sordid slew of others. Diane has a ball (doped-up good time) with all of them, but can't escape her own ritualistic premise: "There's nothing. There's nowhere, everything is empty." She ricochets from man to man in love affairs as monotonous as the click of billiard balls...