Word: tunefully
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...demise of the initials U.S.S.R. will mean that one classic Beatles tune will become archaic. But initials are tricky things. The Soviets (or ex- Soviets, as the case may be) should be careful not to name their country the Basically United Sovereign Territories...
Temperature's rising on late night TV, and the young fellow with the thermometer -- oh, it's a microphone -- is Ron Reagan, former ballet dancer, occasional journalist and permanent son of the 40th President of the U.S. Gipperphiles will tune in to THE RON REAGAN SHOW to see the host twit Kitty Kelley, "who we know applies only the highest journalistic standards to her work." Gipperphobes will be pleased to hear Ron bad-mouth the policies of the Reagan Administration. He treads the tightrope in Jimmy Stewart style, his aw- shucks ingenuity tempered with wry skepticism. The kid needs both...
Maybe the U.S., like the Soviet Union, needs a little push to do the right thing. But who will offer America a Grand Bargain? The candidate is obvious: Japan. As a matter of fact, the Japanese are already subsidizing the American economy to the tune of many billions of dollars a year. One measure is the U.S. current-account deficit with Japan: $32.3 billion in 1990. That means, in essence, that the Japanese sold $32 billion more of goods and services to Americans than Americans sold to the Japanese. The excess represents a loan to the American economy, which takes...
...those who didn't would shut up. But in the voice of the dissident, the oddball and the minority, however wrongheaded from one's own point of view, we should learn to hear the echoes of men like Jefferson and Paine. They didn't goose-step to the tune of the reigning authority. They didn't shut up when more timid souls said it wasn't wise to speak. And suppose they had? Then the flag we'd be pinning to our lapels today would be the Union Jack...
Mark Twain and Charlie Chaplin look-alikes, trailed by a freckle-faced Huck Finn, greet passengers as they come up the gangplank of the Mississippi River's newest paddle-wheeler, Emerald Lady. A Dixieland band lays down tune after tune, while a jokester on stilts tosses colorful doubloons. Waitresses with feathers jutting from their hair sashay through wood-paneled rooms, offering cocktails. As the riverboat pulls out of Fort Madison, Iowa, and steams up and down the Mississippi on a three-hour excursion into the 19th century, it is easy to get swept up in the hoopla. So easy that...