Word: shouting
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Order a round of Dom Perignon. Put on a party hat. Grab a noisemaker. Get ready to shout "Happy Anniversary!" After all, it was just ten years ago that Americans walked into retail stores and saw the first fully assembled personal computers sitting on the shelves, waiting to be taken home and plugged into the socket. It was the beginning of the computer era for millions of people, ranging from sixth-graders learning to log on, to secretaries spinning out reams of letters, to hopeful authors plugging away at their novels on the screen...
Eventually, North had so won over his audience that when Senate Counsel Arthur Liman came stalking after him, a curious effect set in, even among some who thought that North was lying. One wanted to shout at the screen, like kids at a Saturday matinee of long ago, "Watch out, Ollie! He's setting a trap...
...goes big for her as well but is inhibited by his amiable reserve -- and by a nose that looks like a fairy-tale Nixon's after he'd told a lie. So C.D. agrees to become Chris' voice and soul, whispering the music of love for Chris to shout up to Roxanne's balcony . . . But you've heard this story before. It is Cyrano de Bergerac replanted in rural Washington State. Chivalric C.D. is no swordsman; he duels with tennis racquet and walking stick. Rostand's purple poetry is replaced with C.D.'s Hallmarkian attempt to turn palship into passion...
...attendence reflected the importance of the occasion, in which one of the nation's most renowned faculties placed its stamp of approval on a new area of intellectual inquiry. When the dean of the faculty called on faculty members to shout their "ayes" and "nays," the room echoed resoundingly with "ayes." One lone and thoroughly discredited voice uttered a "nay." Harvey C. Mansfield, Jr., a professor of government, spoke alone for an intimidated minority that still had doubts about the new undergraduate concentration, dubbed Women's Studies...
...would trudge across Lafayette Square giving the anatomy of Andrew Jackson's rampant bronze horse an insult or two, then pull up in the club dining room and on evil days have a martini, maybe two. About then our natural leader, Peter Lisagor of the Chicago Daily News, would shout, "Okay, boys, let's cut 'em up." There followed golden hours of bombast, insult, vituperation and disparagement aimed at Presidents, editors, academics, clergymen, members of Congress and little old ladies in tennis shoes. Osborne, the courtly Southerner, was heard on somber occasions to say "darn." Thus cleansed, we returned...