Word: beering
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...kept his audience waiting for half an hour after his recital was billed to begin. When at last he entered, he began to thump the keys in an unmerciful manner, forcing his tone, letting his left hand get in front of his right and pouring out his music like beer carelessly dumped into a mug too small for it so that a turbulent foam froths over. And yet, by some strange madness in his playing he gave his technical vagaries the air of having been written for him by Wagner; he tumbled a sunset thunder-mountain into the fustian stalls...
...undergraduate paper. Does its editorial policy strive to express the beliefs of the undergraduates, so far as they can be ascertained; or is it merely the opinion of its editors as individuals? If it is the latter, you are entirely justified in continuing to advocate your "light wines and beer" football reform. But should it be the former I suggest you change your policy and start working for a bigger stadium so that when the present undergraduates become alumni they can be sure of at least two tickets to the games. Kenneth S. Conkey...
...mill a gallon is to be placed on the manufacture of near-beer and other cereal beverages. The tax was written into the bill at the request of Assistant Secretary of the Treasury Lincoln C. Andrews, in order to enable him to have constant control and inspection of near-beer breweries to prevent them from selling high-power beer...
...Paris one Albert Wolly, professional faster, entered a glass case where he proposed to go 26 days without food. Eleven days passed. In that period 40,000 people had filed by, tantalizing him by munching cake, sandwiches, pickles, drinking bottles of beer and champagne before his brooding eyes. On the afternoon of the twelfth day a young woman came in eating a chocolate éclair. She nibbled, smiled at him, finished the last crumb and licked her fingers when suddenly wild Wolly arose and, swinging his chair over his head, smashed the case. Gendarmes conducted him to a hospital...
...more will they, wearing what-the-gentlemen-will-wear, rush into night clubs. No more will their handsome features peer through a peekhole in a door behind which 200 topers are toping; and no more will their portly bodies enter to find a single toper dizzily sipping ginger beer. No more need wedding guests lifting their bubbling-stemmed glasses to the bride, fear sudden descent of those twain, snatching the twinkling beverage from their lips to impound it for the court. These things are not of the future. For Izzy Einstein and Moe Smith have been "laid...