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Substituting dots, dashes and asterisks for profanity is a maddening hypocrisy. Consequently, "A Good Word for Bad Words" [Dec. 14] was a breath of fresh air. Today's sophisticated reader prefers cusswords to the coverup...
...first period was the fastest and hardest I've ever seen," said Crimson defenseman Mark Fusco. "I'm kind of glad it didn't stay that way," he added after a deep breath, a breath that nobody--not the fans, not the coaches, not the players--had a chance to catch last night at Snively Arena during the opening stanza. Before you had time to count the Dartmouth jackets in the crowd. Harvard was in the locker room with a 3-1 lead, and the price of hot dogs at the concession stand had already dropped ten cents...
...surprise, then, when it comes time to listen to the music. Why, this is no hitman or rapist perverting the meaning of Christmas! Instead, it sounds like someone held a microphone to your father as he shoveled snow one day last Janaury and sung a few tunes under his breath. You get the feeling that someone called Slim one day and said, "Slim, if you're not busy, why don't you take a half-hour or so and come on down to the studio and record a Christmas album?" And Slim (who is, by the way, emphatically not) must...
...have never reached a consensus on ailurophobia-extreme fear of cats. Some postulate a traumatic childhood experience with felines, while others blame the cat's galvanizing stare, or disdain for affection, or even its slippery, furred coat and unfriendly, arching backbone. Traditional superstitions still exist: cats suck the breath from sleeping infants, sour fresh milk, forecast the phases of the moon and serve Satan. A black cat is bad luck. According to old belief, a cat, through necromancy or something even more unfathomable, has been given nine lives. Such Draculatic positions, however, are rare. Cats themselves often seem instinctively...
...unlikely seem inevitable. Instead, he channels his energies into sour asides on the state of modern urban life and spasms of empurpled prose: "The drink was gone. The last of it was going in a crawling sear down his esophagus, and then it struck his stomach with the breath-stopping burn of eating at the membrane over an ulcer...