Word: somehows
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...bigwigs who awarded him medals. In Manhattan he remained only a few hours before he was whisked onto a westbound mail car. When he arrived in Tacoma, Wash., Owney had traveled round the world in 132 days. So in San Francisco, when he somehow got into a bench show with a houseful of snooty thoroughbreds, he was awarded another medal and a ribbon-for being the most traveled dog in the world...
...convening of night court. That night Mr. Nelson did not appear to press his charges so Mr. Berger was turned loose. He said that he was now going home to cook his dinner. Would somebody please return his little chicken? The magistrate said he was very sorry but somehow the little chicken had vanished...
...closed immediately. The method worked perfectly until the unforeseen accident of a hit put the impresario in the miserable position of having to pay 85% of its profits to all its various angels simultaneously. As rewritten by a battery of Hollywood scenarists, this idea is somehow boiled down to the skeleton for a succession of vaudeville turns most of which are as familiar as the players who take part in them. Best sketch, taken from Life Begins at 8:40 (1934): Milton Berle as a stock speculator hysterically caught in the toils of a greedy broker...
Jokes like these, peculiar to the Marx Brothers, are somehow as funny on the screen as they are unfunny in print. A Day at the Races, which took a year to make, is happily distinguished from previous Marx pictures in that it contains more of them. A wild, complex, totally implausible fable about a run-down sanatorium, its impudent porter (Chico), an imported horse-doctorphysician (Groucho) and the steeplechase in which a speechless jockey (Harpo) gets the money to pay off the sanatorium's debts through his brilliant ride on a horse who hates the gambler who is trying...
...sabotage, political assassinations. But when one of his characters says: "The queer thing is that, when this lunatic comes to you and starts this idea in your head, you don't say Pish or Tush and just turn it down; you begin to have a vague sense that somehow you have felt something-you hardly know what," he expresses what the sympathetic reader feels about such a Wellsian book as Star-Begotten. And occasionally, as a good journalist may, Wells's burbling, suggestive, enthusiastic talk strikes out a suddenly poetic phrase that rings in the memory: "With their...