Word: whiplashed
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...have each sold more than $1,000,000 worth of copies. The most recent, Billion Dollar Babies, is already a $2,000,000 baby after only four months. Leading department stores round the nation are now stocking the Alice Cooper line of unisex cosmetics: Alice's Whiplash mascara will soon be followed by perfume rouge, deodorant and "Take a Bath with Alice" bubble bath...
...neither dead nor alive, just M.I.A. She remembers November 1969, when an antiwar group brought back a list of prisoners from Hanoi and Joe was recalled to life as a P.O.W. She saw Joe on television then, being paraded before microphones in Hanoi. Most of all, she remembers the whiplash of last fall, when peace was at hand and then suddenly the hand was gone. Before that promise faded again for a while, Joan decided Joe would be home before Christmas. She called the kids together, and after "a conference" they all agreed. Only one present would be bought...
...after all, has ever seen a traffic jam under purple skies and whiplash rain--while a lone white stallion threads through the maddened crush--and an empty rocking chair balances a spread umbrella--and on the roadside an enormous pahllic stone keeps company to a vast vaginal entrances--and a movie crew dangles precariously from a careening crane--all culminating in a thousand car jigsaw squeeze outside the Colleseum exploding with volcanic glare...
...lobby last week seemed prototypical affluent Americans. Lawyers in town for the American Bar Association's annual meeting -some 8,000 strong-they conventioneered in determinedly conventional fashion. Black ties came out for a dinner dance complete with Bob Hope ("This would be a great place to get whiplash"). Outthrust hands took advantage of the boundless cordiality of Lewis Powell, former A.B.A. president, and clients might later be told, "I was chatting last summer with Justice Powell...
Journey to Defeat. Life has recast them as a pudgy, crooked mayor grubbing for re-election (Charles Durning), a philandering, strip-mining moneybags (Paul Sorvino), an amusingly cynical alcoholic (Walter McGinn), and his bitter school superintendent of a brother (Michael McGuire). Their old coach (Richard A. Dysart) is a whiplash of a man embalmed in the Vince Lombardi philosophy. But these men have lost the game of life, and in their rasping revelations à la Virginia Woolf and their boozy camaraderie à la The Boys in the Band, the playgoer finds...