Word: spats
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...home for a new start. Electric light and water went on and off irregularly, and the royal palaces and guesthouses were jammed with sheiks squatting on the floor smoking water pipes, barefoot soldiers with tommy guns and kohl-eyed women who had daringly torn off their veils. Sheiks who spat qat on the carpets were reproved: ''Yemen is now a modern republic...
...were forced to pass. At 7 a.m. on Monday, as the first workers arrived, the shakedown began. Some men were stripped naked, each item of clothing carefully inspected for "documents." Others had their shirts or pants removed. Some were forced to kneel as tough Cuban guards emptied their pockets, spat at them, and shouted such things as "Why do you work for the Yankee bastards?" The inspection took 2% hours before all the Cubans got through, and in the evening, as cows grazed peacefully outside the chute, Guantanamo's Cubans waited and sweated for an hour or more...
...Lebanese resort town of Shtura last week, security police relieved them of several dozen pistols. Syria's Ambassador Khalil Kallas key noted the eleven-day session by announcing sweetly: "We have come here to cut off Nasser's head and end his reptile tactics." The Egyptians spat back that the Syrians were "barking dogs." The Iraqis for once had nothing to say; they boycotted the conference when they heard the Kuwaitis would be there...
Into New York State Supreme Court charged agents of the State Rent Com mission to settle a spat involving a long-clawed cat. The cat belongs to Acting U.N. Secretary-General U Thant, 53, and occupies an honored place in his well-appointed eleven-room digs on Manhattan's East Side. The man who sublets the place had been charging Thant $1,200 a month until the commission sued him for rent gouging and demanded $51,700 triple damages on Thant's behalf. Not at all, protested the landlord. The gouge was on the other side. Thant...
Draped across the bars of chute No. 3 at the National Finals Rodeo in Dallas, the cowpoke stared coldly at a mottled grey bronc, puffed an inch-long butt, and spat contemptuously into the dirt. "Keep your eyes open," warned a bystander. "That Blue Boy's a rank old s.o.b." Nodding brusquely, Kenny Mc Lean hiked up his scuffed leather chaps, swung over the rail, settled gingerly into the saddle, and in the awkward tradition of rodeo riding, he dug his spurs hard into Blue Boy's neck...