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...call of "Beep! Beep!"? A speedy little creature called Road Runner II, that's what. In recent weeks, however, he has preferred to be known by his real name and title: Ralph Garr, leftfielder, Atlanta Braves. That's R-a-l-p-h Garr. If enough people spell it that way on the write-in ballot for the National League All-Star team, he may yet get the recognition he says he so richly deserves. "The rate I'm going," he says, "I think my worth will be fantastic...
...secretary in London. As usual with Pinter, the surface is unremittingly mundane. Coffee is poured, snatches of old songs are sung, memories are exchanged. Also as usual, the action is punctuated by pregnant pauses, the lines surrounded by halos of significant silence. Deeper emotions are hinted at: the lingering spell of the visitor's lesbian attachment to the wife, the husband's sense of being threatened by the woman's arrival, the wife's sublime and ultimately frightening impassivity before love...
...appeal to the black vote. Instead he limited his campaign appearances-usually no more than one a day -to friendly white neighborhoods and concentrated on polishing his gruff supercop image. "I was there in every crisis when Philadelphia needed me," he told one audience. He did not have to spell out the fact that most of those crises involved blacks, crime and drugs...
...agreements on such disparate items as German beer, French mayonnaise, and Italian spaghetti. Now a totally unexpected commodity is at issue. In Strasbourg last week, the fledgling European Parliament formally agreed to consider a question raised by a Belgian Socialist Deputy named Ernest Glinne. The Market, Glinne demands, should spell out once and for all "where we stand when the remains of cremated human beings are transported from one member state to another...
...Australian Author Germaine Greer (The Female Eunuch). As the distinctively distaff heckling mounted, Mailer shouted, "I'm not going to sit here and let you harridans harangue me." Mailer's was not the only maimed male ego. When asked by hapless Critic Anatole Broyard to spell out what the liberated woman wants, Greer snapped: "Whatever it is we're asking for, honey...