Word: sobbed
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...worthy of sparring; "Two Little Hitlers" defined relationships as an unending series of one-upmanships and clashes, a dance of death with each power in turn vowing to return. Here, his sometime partner, presumably aging Playboy centerfold and intercontinental pleasure-kitten Bebe Buell, is merely a "B Movie," "a sob-soap story" devoid of all but carnal interest; this is not two Hitlers, but Hitler and Mussolini. The song climaxes as Elvis taunts her for her shallowness: "You can't feel, you can't feel," his voice echoing in her vacuity, while Bruce Thomas's almost bored bass thrums luridly...
...beauty business may not suffer from a tight Christmas, because vanity is generally inelastic. In fact, although Santa may shoulder lighter packs this year, area hairstylists still assume they will arrive looking neat. "I hear all the sob stories of people without any money," Hair Care of Dunster Street's Nancy L. Sellon said yesterday. "But people who will do anything to save money get their hair cut because it makes them feel better," she added...
Harry You was huddled in his coxswain's position. His eyes were glazed with tears, and his lips were pursed to hold back a sob. The powerful engine room was hauntingly silent. Hap Porter blinked back tears while Charlie Alterkruse hurried off, oar in tow. Paul Templeton, in the bow, looked worn--he too was ready...
...historian, a griot, confirms the Haley family account of Kinte's capture by white 18th century slave traders, Alex's joy is overwhelming. "You old African! I found you! I found you! I found you! I found you!" shouts out James Earl Jones, his voice bursting with sobs. The TV audience may well sob along with him. Now as before, Roots occupies a special place in the history of our mass culture: it has the singular power to reunite all Americans, black and white, with their separate and collective pasts...
...crisis point comes for Collins when he must close out one final account in order to regain his Man of the Year slot. Collins isn't worried. "Everyone's got a sob story," he tells his account. "Don't tell me about your deals. I know what you are. Your wife knows what you are. Your kids know what you are . . ." But how far can he push it? Collins goes to the man's house. The TV is blaring, Merv Griffith is ranting about Jacqueline Susanne, a great artist. He wanders through the suspiciously quiet house--a prefab chalet sitting...