Word: spats
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...movie is already something of a cult phenomenon. And why shouldn't it be? It's got everything: Set in a Jamaican ghetto under sunny blue skies, the movie looks like a rough etching for a travelogue; a reggae singer on the up and up is bullied and spat down by the local fat king of the record business; he falls for a young sweet 'n innocent ward of the neighborhood preacher, and then shows up all preacher's God-stricken ranting and moaning and raving and groaning as simple lechery; his ambition as a rock star thwarted, he joins...
...movie-is already something of a cult phenomenon. And why shouldn't it be? It's got everything: Set in a Jamaican ghetto under sunny blue skies, the movie looks like a rough etching for a travelogue; a reggae singer on the up and up is bullied and spat down by the local fat king of the record business; he falls for a young sweet 'n innocent ward of the neighborhood preacher, and then shows up all preacher's God-stricken ranting and moaning and raving and groaning as simple lechery; his ambition as a rock star thwarted, he joins...
...President's inadvertently provocative speech was broadcast to 250,000 restless young Perónists who had gathered in and around Buenos Aires' Plaza de Mayo. Cámpora's words led to a paroxysm of rioting and looting, during which outgoing President Alejandro Lanusse was spat upon and Antonio Cardinal Caggiano, the 84-year-old primate of Argentina, was jostled when demonstrators rocked...
Mitchell left the Justice Department in March 1972, to direct Nixon's re-election campaign. His tenure at C.R.P. was brief. In a well-publicized yet ultimately unconvincing marital spat shortly after the Watergate breakin, Mitchell's loquacious wife Martha threatened to leave him unless he got out of what she called the "dirty" business of politics. Mitchell left C.R.P. but remained close to the President...
...prescence? Why was she crying in the windy rain, crying out her gray histories of pain? She moaned and moned again. It seemed the only action she could manage. The wind lifted the sound and stretched it out over this barren wild land; stretched it and swallowed it and spat it out, singing. This was a song of wretchedness, a black wretchedness which she sang to the dead sun, swamped inside the wild rain...