Word: turfing
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...taught in five minutes. Trainer Woodhouse's commands and corrections rumble steadily, and the choke collar comes into play. "Heel!" she commands, slapping her thigh to reinforce her words. "Dogs love noises," she explains. A small Samoyed fails to obey, and Mrs. Woodhouse jerks him across the turf. The owner winces but Mrs. Woodhouse keeps on talking-and jerking. "This is what some dogs do and their poor owners go weak around the gills [jerk]. Stop, you naughty dog [jerk]. This is all put on for the benefit of anyone who might be sympathetic [jerk]. Well, scream away...
...people in Nether Providence understood what reapportionment meant to them, and fewer cared. But the details were crucial to the local leaders that gathered that night, and they stubbornly refused easy compromises. Commissioners demanded they not be legislated out of their turf, and the ward leaders answered that if this were so, they had to remain in theirs also. Incredulous, Harris watched each of his plans rejected. They had been good, reasonable schemes, representing almost 25 hours of work...
...state within Pakistan to be called Pushtunistan (Pathan Nation). They have been getting help and support from Pathans in neighboring Afghanistan. Adding to the ferment and intrigue, both the P.P.P. and the N.A.P. have organized large paramilitary groups to protect what each considers to be its own turf...
Stark. Emerging from Challenger after its almost perfect landing only about 300 ft. from target near the Crater Camelot,* Geologist Schmitt made it clear that he regarded the stark, rock-littered valley as his special turf. "A geologist's paradise, if I've ever seen one," said the Harvard-trained scientist as he and Cernan began their preliminary chores: familiarizing themselves with the terrain, photographing the area and, finally, maneuvering the rover out of its berth in the side of the lunar module. Then, after a fast test spin by Cernan ("Hallelujah, Houston, Challenger's baby...
Michael Allinson largely supports the play in his lead role as the successful mystery writer Andrew Wyke. Allinson struts around the stage like a long-legged bird secure on its own rocky turf, waving his arms and laughing from his belly while populating his imagination with his ace detective St. John Lord Merridew and a host of artful villains. Wyke's sixteenth century country house, the play's only set, is filled with bizarre paraphernalia. Among its pillars, arches, and cluttered bookcases sits a paper-mache automaton with a toothy smile. It laughs uproariously when Wyke activates it after each...