Word: shoutedly
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...want to start this column with a shout-out to a small and oft-ignored subset of my readers. I don’t mean residents of Pfoho or my aunts down in New Jersey, though I’m glad they’re reading too. Instead, I want to acknowledge my as-of-this-writing-unborn grandchildren. I want to do this because it occurred to me recently that some day, as my distant kin are sitting in their dorm rooms in Allston looking out onto their gorgeous new student center (or, heaven forbid, envying it from somewhere...
...take their vocalizing cues from the swingin' precision of Ella Fitzgerald, the hiccupping innocence and intensity of Buddy Holly. Instead, they sound indentured to the wildly mannerist melodramatics of Mariah Carey and Michael Bolton. ("Just sing the damned song," my friend George Grizzard has been known to shout at his TV.) But at least the performers, and the show's mammoth audience, are exposed to the Great American Songbook, pre-Eminem, pre-Titanic...
...wants to keep the press at bay. They have been stationing themselves in a gallery opposite the entrance to the Cabinet room for at least 30 years. Journalists say that being barred them from their regular third-floor perch means they no longer have a chance to approach (i.e., shout questions at) the meeting's participants and that ministers who want to avoid the press will be freer to do so. "It's a concrete example of how the Prime Minister's Office is trying to restrict and control which members of the Cabinet talk to Canadians and about which...
...pipes and drums to let everyone know: we’re proud to be Irish, we’re proud to be American, and we’re proud that we stand together.So on March 17 I put up with the fools who get drunk on green beer and shout “Kiss me, I’m Irish!” I can put up with the leprechaun costumes and green plastic baubles that miss the point entirely. And when I see someone wearing a green bowler with glittering plastic clovers, I remember my grandfather?...
...soon as they are told, they hurry to line up outside. The cadet bearing the Paul Revere battalion flag takes his place at the end. Two cadets each take command of part of the line. “Fall in! Right face! Forward march!” they shout. “Left, left, left right left.” The cadets march in single file. The cadets strike up cadences to time their march, reminiscent of summer camp, but with a definite army twist. “Oh my buddy’s in a foxhole / a bullet...