Word: smug
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...1960s Capp soured on his liberal friends. Said he: "They seemed to me smug and sanctimonious." He traded in his old Establishment targets, like the baby-kissing Senator Jack S. Phogbound, and replaced them with the likes of Radical Folk Singer Joanie Phoanie, who sang of protest between mouthfuls of caviar, and S.W.I.N.E.-Students Wildly Indignant About Nearly Everything. A favorite target of campus hecklers, Capp received notoriety during a lecture tour in 1971, pleading guilty to attempted adultery after a woman student accused him of making indecent advances. As Capp became more conservative, Li'l Abner...
...obnoxious as Brian McCue, Grace Shohet, and Fred Barton. With his pinched face and short catalogue of exaggerated expressions, McCue mugs like an eight-year old who wants a new tricycle; Shohet evokes Ethel Merman; Barton, the ham-handed piano player, thinks it's enough to bellow in a smug voice and grin idiotically like George Burns, jutting his prognathous jaw like a salient into the Comic Void...
...lose control at the Orson Welles, lose control and scream "Bergman stinks" as I hurl the coffee-maker against the t-shirt display on the art deco wall. However this reaction isn't entirely the fault of the Welles, which I believe was named the Real Paper's Most Smug Theater of 1976. I learned to fear so-called "art films" and the theaters that screen them at a very early age, when I was dragged to a seedy little known theater in Detroit to see a "beautiful and sensitive film" and enrich my culturally deprived life. This place...
...making a stand with small-scale movies which make up in honesty for what they lack in monumentality and pyrotechnics. Cheered on by his audiences and lauded by critics, Yates, with a movie about bicycles, has out-distanced power-driven, Dolbyized, super-slick monsters like Rocky II and smug, summer-hyped star vehicles like Meatballs...
Even the world's supposedly greatest metropolis has lately begun to sound like one of those boosteristic burgs that Sinclair Lewis used to deride. There was a day when New York City was so smug, haughty and complacent about its firstness that Author Irvin Cobb thought the place possessed "absolutely not a trace of local pride." Yet in the 1970s, the Big Apple, as the city now cutely calls itself, has been larding the air waves so much with a treacly, self-addressed valentine of a song ("I love New Yorrrrrrrrrrk!") that even a tone-deaf statistician might wonder...