Word: sorting
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...sort of journalism at TIME is not greatly subject to seasonal cycles, but there are some predictable moments every year. With the first whiff of winter, editors-who are not above escapism-start thinking of stories about cruises or resorts. With the first anticipation of winter's end, they begin to consider spring fashions. This year we decided that the success of the American look-and the remarkably attractive and varied new designs by leading American fashion makers-deserved cover story treatment...
...That sort of thing not only costs tax dollars to administer but also winds up stifling competition, since plumbers scrutinize plumbers, nursing-home administrators oversee nursing homes, etc. To curtail such cozy practices, the Colorado House of Representatives has recently passed a "sunset" law that would require each of the state's 41 regulatory agencies to justify its existence every six years-or quietly expire. The state senate is expected to approve the bill in the next few weeks. Legislators know that most agencies will fight hard to stay in business, but many will be forced to streamline themselves...
...never wrote." Says Robin, "I don't know how." Seeing Marian, being back in Sherwood, rekindles Robin's spirits. Age and old scars are forgotten, save in times of extreme stress-as in a sword fight on the castle walls of Nottingham. It is just the sort of escapade that Marian was hoping Robin would abandon...
...wood for future productions. Most of the people striking are crew from Godspell, the next show scheduled in the theater. Maybe that's why they seem so happy to demolish the set. One person on the techie circuit explained he spends every other Saturday striking a set of some sort. "I'm just here to rip it apart," he says. Douglas Hughes is hurrying because he's president of the Premiere Society and he claims they pay by the minute to use the building...
...real self-satisfied. But that last line had to be rushed through, rhythm avoided, kinkier overtones slithered by--just like Jimmy Carter whips through his "Hi I'm the Nuclear Peanut!" to avoid giving rise to the opaque amoebas crawling around in the basement of his soul. In a sort of funeral home official's Gee-I'm-sorry-but-what-range-casket-do-y'all-want voice, Tim said, "Just wait til we get some music--a little pedal steel is all that line needs." I said, "Music, Right." The refugee said, "Yeah...