Word: swig
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...traffic lights, 45,000 manufacturing plants, 2,820,000 trees. New Yorkers receive 13 billion pounds of perishable and 8.5 billion pounds of non-perishable foods annually; their subway vending machines yield close to 2,000,000 pounds of pennies. Daily, they chomp 3,500,000 pounds of meat, swig 460,000 gallons of beer, pull 21 miles of dental floss past their molars, guzzle and flush 1 billion gallons of water. The municipal corporation alone owns a physical plant worth more than $15 billion. And every facility is inadequate. No adjective is enormous enough to suggest the concentration...
...might as easily be found in Heidelberg or Hanover, the audiences are more akin to Hackensack. Some, of course, are college kids, but a surprising number are middle-aged couples, flushed of face and strong of voice, swinging down memory lane, with a stop now and then for a swig and some peanuts. The band is properly twangy, the repertory-On, Wisconsin!, "Hold That Tiger," "Roll Out the Barrel"-the sort that only a trombone, a tuba, a washboard and a couple of banjos can get away with...
...Snob Hill Trail. It is called Cave Man Camp. There, for two days last week, Barry Goldwater slipped gratefully into seclusion, surrounded by centuries-old redwoods, water-lily-carpeted ponds, and a covey of U.S. millionaires and influentials, Republican and Democratic, who like to strip to their skivvies, swig Scotch in the sun, and forget their troubles...
Prudence Penny, the New York Mirror's cooking columnist, was teaching readers how to make rum pie with zwieback crust. "Break up zwieback," commanded Prudence conventionally. The next step in the recipe was the kicker: "Keep rum bottle handy; if smashing up zwieback exhausts you, take swig of rum and resume zwieback breaking when strength returns." The extraordinary advice may have startled housewives not yet privy to the Mirror's secret: Prudence Penny is a onetime police reporter named Hyman Goldberg...
...building on Honolulu's Kapiolani Boulevard one day last week, a band of ukuleles and a bass fiddle plunked out a rhythmic island tune. In the midday sun, languid, aloha-shirted islanders meandered back and forth along the sidewalk carrying their signs, pausing now and then for a swig of pineapple juice or to chat with a passerby. The occasion was neither a luau nor a festival, but the visible evidence of the first strike in more than 100 years of Hawaiian newspaper publishing history...