Word: soured
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...broken with the Wilder-Sistrom movie of James M. Cain's Double Indemnity, Hollywood can now get by with filming this kind of shabby "realism." The blessing is mixed. Apparently, U.S. moviegoers have matured to the point where they will stand for reasonably frank images of unhappy marriage, sour love affairs, and of a disease so gravely epidemic as Mr. Young's obsessive desire to stay in the money at all costs. But in this, as in most such "adult" movies, the semi-maturity is well mixed with trashiness...
...make things worse, three trainloads of milk went sour on the way to the capital. And just at the height of the heat wave, London's water supply staggered and broke down under a record load of 428 million gallons a day-30 million gallons more than last year's consumption for the same period. Taps gurgled and ran dry in thousands of London homes, and once again Londoners were queuing up on the streets, this time with jugs and cans, to wait for a cooling ration from city water carts and hydrants. In many a London kitchen...
...children, aged 5 to 17, including a mentally retarded group (average I.Q.: 65), and some epileptics of normal or superior intelligence (glutamic acid had previously been used for treating epilepsy). The children got heavy daily doses (average: 12 grams), usually mixed with food, because glutamic acid by itself is sour, oily and unpalatable. In too big doses, the acid made the children restless and sleepless; in doses they could tolerate, it produced a remarkable improvement in alertness, drive, ability to solve problems. At the end of a year the children's I.Q.s had risen an average of eleven points...
Practically the only sour note of the year was sounded by Bill Cunningham, whose sensitive Dartmouth ear was offended by several trombone notes at the end of the Big Green recording. Although refusing to provoke any further wrath from Bill, Manager Skinner placed the blame squarely on the columnist's shoulders by giving his trombonists a clean bill of health and commenting that "Cunningham apparently doesn't know a trombone from a tuba anyway...
...millions-was on the march again, but not so starry-eyed. Labor had stolen its holiday from the Virgin and primitive goddesses of fertility to celebrate the dream of the eight-hour day. Now in turn Communism had stolen the holiday from the working man, and it had gone sour...