Word: stoning
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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When it comes to celebrity watching, the town of Beverly Hills, Calif, (pop. 33,500), is the capital of the world. "We're all voyeurs here," says Screenwriter Peter Stone, who just escalated a notch toward celebrityhood himself by winning an Oscar for the year's best script, Father Goose. "When we pull up to a red light we all look over at the next car to see who's in it." In this high-proof concentration of fame and beauty, the highest-proof spot between the hours of 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. is something called...
...ancient Egyptians loathed the changes that life brings. They sought an untroubled permanence in death. Pharaohs who could afford it built pyramids to shelter them in eternity. Others enshrined themselves differently in stone. One such was Sema-tawy-tefnakht, a blood relative of Pharaoh Psamtik I, who commissioned a stylized likeness of himself in rare and unfrugal alabaster, ordered it set in the temple of Amun at Karnak. Permanence, at least in alabaster, is not man's lot; as time passed, his statue was broken in half and thrown into a pit near the temple...
...Stone's criticism may be destructive but it rests on an unequaled bedrock of documentation (How he ploughs through so much dull stuff each week is beyond me). Because he feels the government information bureaus are at best advertising, at worst brainwashing, agencies whose purpose is to manipulate an unsuspecting public he must go beyond them. Because he feels that administrators are a disingenuous lot, practiced in the arts of falsification, he never contents himself with their ready answers. "They've got journalistic maidenheads hanging in their offices. They like to ladle out the news. They can give the impression...
What strikes one most forcefully about Mr. Stone is that he is a terribly happy man. "What made you start your paper?" a student asks. "There was no alternative. I was in despair," he replies, a big wide grin spread across his face. Only a happy heretic knows that kind of despair. Even bemoaning our policy in Cuba or Vietnam, his most concerned expressions are always dissolving into smiles...
...here, aspiring journalists, is Izzy Stone, at an age when most men look back ruefully on the years behind, on the social debts unpaid, on the causes not espoused; here he is, working like a crazy man at what he loves to do, thumbing his nose at the government, yet making a nice living, beholden to no one, feeling quite subversive and generally all optimistic smiles--smiles for himself and for man's future on this planet. He loves to call himself the only capitalist entrepreneur left in the news business...