Word: spellers
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...last September. The red and yellow plastic device asks wide-eyed kids and fascinated adults to spell words as easy as was or as difficult as quotient by punching out the letters on a keyboard. It then responds, "That is correct," or "That is incorrect," and gives the bad speller two more chances before it spells the word itself and goes on to the next word. The chip has a vocabulary of 250 words, and another chip called Vowel Power can add 150 more. The voice is a male monotone patterned after the Midwestern accent of a Dallas radio announcer...
...gaudy iconic nostalgia of those cards in early combines like Collection, 1953-54, and Charlene, 1954. His education was spotty. He went to public schools in Port Arthur and graduated from high school there in 1942. "I excelled in poor grades," Rauschenberg remembers. He is still an execrable speller. In the fall of 1942 he enrolled in a pharmacy course at the University of Texas in Austin, but Rauschenberg's fondness for animals spoiled that vocation. "I was expelled within six months for refusing to dissect a live frog in anatomy class." By then, however, America...
...operation was a logistical nightmare, particularly on Guam. In one night, Navy personnel transformed a tangle of spiky tangantangan trees and underbrush into what one poor speller christened "Camp Fourtuitous," the beginnings of a temporary settlement which may house up to 40,000 evacuees. When the first group arrived at 6 a.m., tents were in place and four-holer lavatories were set up. In succeeding nights, Seabees installed lights, field kitchens, showers and running water...
...hour and a half is a long time for any child-or beagle-to be amusing, and the whimsy that attempts to fill the time frequently falters. Charlie's grim pursuit of Best Speller status could use some comic-strip relief. And an interlude of Schroeder playing Beethoven's Pathètique falls into the old Fantasia trap, overly baited with pictorial gewgaws and kitsch...
...Columnist Royko [July 1] recalls the fact that in Cleveland, we have a street named Kosciuszko. There is a story that a policeman stopped in the station, told his superior there was a dead horse on Kosciuszko. The officer said, "Well, make out your report." The policeman, a poor speller, disappeared. After an hour, he came back disheveled and out of breath. His officer demanded to know where he had been. Replied he: "I moved the horse to 79th Street...