Word: fussing
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...none of us will be able to survive past Thursday. Somehow we will have to carry on, though, and to do so it may help to scrutinize exactly what it is we will be losing when Seinfeld goes off the air and whether all this fuss is justified. One way to approach these questions is to look at the show in the historical context of America's signature contribution to Western civilization: the situation comedy. What makes Seinfeld so special compared with sitcoms of the past? Is it better, more popular, more innovative? A careful review of the evidence suggests...
...fuss has come about not because the little mouse with the 5-in. tail is an officially endangered species--it isn't--but because it might soon be declared so. On that presumption, federal and local regulators are requiring developers to make elaborate surveys in wetland areas where the mouse allegedly thrives. Paul Banks, a bemused environmental consultant in Denver, says the elusive jumping mouse may be doing as much to curb Colorado's rampant development as all the slow-growth confabs and environmentalists' lawsuits put together...
...safe scrapbook album next to my high school certificate. But the recent debate over the format of our diplomas (both as regards the language in which they are written and the signatures which appear on them) has given me the chance to consider what all the fuss is about and what exactly I want my diploma to look like if I ever...
DIED. DAVID HICKS, 69, 1960s avatar of interior design who dressed the homes of the rich and famous with wall-to-wall flamboyance and fidgety fuss; of cancer; in Oxfordshire, England. Hicks, a sworn enemy of chintz, eschewed the staid flowery prints in favor of eye-popping solids, which he boldly mingled with modern paintings and patterned carpets. Among his chichi clientele: King Fahd and royals Prince Charles and Princess Anne, who became his peers after he married Lady Pamela Mountbatten...
...trout-fishing in Michigan feels; how Yankee jockeys, straight and crooked, ride on European tracks; how half-breed squaws bear their children back of the logging camps; how bulls and toreros slaughter one another in Spain. How he knows things you cannot say; he writes so directly, without fuss and feathers, with so little explanation of himself. He is that rare bird, an intelligent young man who is not introspective on paper. His stories are often incomplete; just facets of life, color and touch, like Katherine Mansfield's "stories," only more masculine, and (sometimes) brutally natural. Make no mistake, Ernest...