Word: scotches
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...three reigning discothèques are close to Piccadilly; beside Dolly's and its rival The Scotch, Annabel's seems daintily restrained, but for that reason may be the most elegant of all; it has a series of wine-cellar rooms and a softly tuned stereo that alternates Sinatra and Ella with the native Animals and Stones. At these and dozens of other discothèques, beautiful gals with long blonde hair and slimly handsome men go gracefully through their explosive, hedonistic, totally individual dances, surrounded by mirrors so that they can see what a good time they...
...creaking red velvet seats are worn slick and the stage floor is pitted and warped. Backstage, the dingy corridors are cluttered with props and tarpaulins. In Caruso's old dressing room, illuminated by a naked light bulb, cracks in the window have been plugged with paper and Scotch tape. When a bevy of ballerinas swept onstage recently, they stirred up billows of dust that all but choked off the lead baritone. Admits one Met official: "There isn't one square foot in the house where we haven't broken at least ten city ordinances...
...frug. Gone are laundry and cleaners' bills; all that's needed is a good eraser. Gone, too, are needle and thread and painstaking alterations. A quick snip of the scissors and the hem is shortened, the neckline lowered, while cut outs sprout all over. As for rips, Scotch Tape is all that's needed for instant repairs...
Only it isn't true, as I realized about the time I decided that Tiffany lamps were indeed what costume mistress Barbara Matheson was trying to make her hockey players look like. A Pudding show is about as camp as scotch and water. Athletes have been dressing up like whores as long as there've been college dining halls. There's nothing decadent in that. Dirty jokes are nothing new. People have been laughing at them for ages. Right Up Your Alley is in an ancient and venerable tradition. The only thing wrong with it is it's not funny...
Greenstone is a story of two races-the Polynesian Maori, who came to New Zealand from their legendary oceanic island homeland in the 14th century, and the Scotch-English, who arrived in the 19th with the usual guns, Bibles and technological superiority. This, however, is no sad, simple story of savage innocence overwhelmed by progress. Miss Ashton-Warner grinds no stone axes against the bad white man. She does something a great deal more complicated and valuable; she sets in motion a sort of dance of language and imagery in which the childhood of the sophisticated race meets the stubborn...