Word: vilenesses
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...Imperialism's Vile Claw." The day Bolivia's 670 copies of TIME arrived by air, they were taken by special order straight to the palace of President Hernán Siles Zuazo, whose ambassador in Peru, getting the magazine a day earlier, had alerted him. Siles made the story the topic of a six-hour Cabinet session, then issued a statement blasting the remark as "damaging to the national honor" and "absolutely inadmissable." The statement gave the Bolivian public to understand that the remark had been put forth as a serious proposal...
...National Revolutionary Movement-and all the magazines were stolen. A day later two La Paz papers ran translations of the story, including the point that the remark was in jest, but the official government newspaper La Nación banner-lined: TIME, THE FINGERNAIL OF IMPERIALISM'S VILE CLAW, OFFENDS BOLIVIA. Next morning 2,000 blue-jeaned high school students marched through downtown La Paz chanting "Down with imperialism!" and "Bolivia will not be a Yankee colony...
...pulled out all the old crowd-pleasers that were growing a bit jaded back home. He called the world press coverage of the executions "the most criminal, vile and cowardly campaign ever conducted against any people." At the Havana Hilton, Floor 23 emptied, the elevators and switchboards began running smoothly again. For a few hours there was peace in Cuba...
...deliberative baritone) appears all right, and eagles mount at his command, but when the thunder has subsided and the baritone passed away, J.B. is no longer the Biblical Job, no longer a vile creature in the maw of the great enigma, no longer the object lesson in a parable. He accepts neither "the blood nor the bowing"; he forgives God for his senseless test; J.B. (and man) becomes the hero, in his capacity to accept life on its own terms, in his willingness to love and love again, to accept love in place of "justice...
...space slave-one of TIME'S prophets -should have said: "Have words, cannot unravel." This nitwit lit crit dissembled a vile mess of subliminal nonsense to suggest that Aldous Huxley is a sub-pessimistic old fuddy-daddy. He treated Huxley's prognostications, fulfilled or unfulfilled, with the strangled insincerity of a man who likes to say "say it ain't so," so he says it ain't. The thought of this compulsive lop-shifter of ideas and neologisms frothing his prophylactic at the dreaming West is downright rummy...