Word: spinned
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Having zipped over the U.S. at 17,750 m.p.h. during his 17-orbit spin last August, Soviet Cosmonaut Major Gherman Titov, decided it was time for a more leisurely look. Titov, whose 25-hr. 18-min. flight remains the world's record, requested a visa to attend an international space conference that opens in Washington next week. There he may get to meet a fellow space traveler, who is scheduled to talk about his own three-orbit flight: U.S. Astronaut Lieut. Colonel John H. Glenn...
...tentative version of adolescent necking: the boys and girls get together at somebody's home, and the parents discreetly disappear, leaving the room darkened and the boys at liberty to "make out." Pre-teeners in Los Angeles have developed a modern version of the post-office and spin-the-bottle kissing games. They call it "Seven Minutes of Heaven (or Hell)." The boy takes the girl who is "it" into a closet or some other room and, depending on his inclination, kisses her (Heaven) or hits her (Hell) for seven minutes...
...breath!" Is it any wonder that Dad, a librarian somewhere in Wales, goes barmy in the back stacks with the first pretty woman (Mai Zetterling) who evinces interest in one of his favorite volumes, Concise History of Codpieces? One moonless night she takes him out for a spin, but just as Dad is about to make out, a cow sticks its head in the car window and says naaaah. She invites him home when her husband is away, but unexpectedly the husband returns-accompanied by several members of the library committee...
...first time, a pitched battle was waged between the army and the S.A.O. The pieds-noirs fought stubbornly, hurling Molotov cocktails from apartment windows, aiming bazookas from the railings of balconies, taking potshots from behind rooftop pillboxes. Oil and soapy water were spread on the streets to spin the wheels of army vehicles. Soldiers advanced from doorway to doorway, crouched to fire from behind trash cans filled with uncollected garbage...
...mood to the next with commanding effect, leading his audience through the street scenes that echo in his music. With porkpie hat and elbows locked to his hips in the pose of the cool twist, he sings a celebration of the street-corner king. The song ends with a spin, a pause, and Brown turns back to his listeners-a mask of pain that conjures up the setting for his next lament. In a minute he is downtown again, fingers snapping...