Word: witchingly
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Boston Globe editor Thomas Winship said at the time, "It's not a red-letter day for the future of quality journalism in this country." Winship's apprehensions center on a man whose British papers run front-page headlines along the lines of, "Sailor Who Turned Into a Girl Witch"; whose New York Post in 1977 ran front-page coupons to draft Ed Koch for governor; and whose editorial instincts often appear geared as much towards winning exclusives as towards Wingo!, whose daily jack pots grow almost as fast as Murdoch's holding in the American press...
...relationships with the "goddesses or doormats," as he categorized the women in his life. Hence, the energy of The Embrace, 1925, its lovers grappling on a sofa in their orifice-laden knot of apoplectic randiness. Hence, too, the fear (amounting sometimes to holy terror, but more often to a witch-killing misogyny) that emanates from creatures like the bony mantis woman of Seated Bather, 1930. Such images are cathartic. One needs colossal self-confidence to expose such insecurities...
DIED. James Wechsler, 67, liberal columnist and former editor of the New York Post; of cancer; in New York City. Wechsler was one of the first major journalists to oppose Senator Joseph McCarthy's witch-hunt tactics in the early 1950s. His signed columns (1961-83) often rang with moral indignation on behalf of the disadvantaged...
...public service were more ambitious. At 26, he was elected Snohomish County prosecutor; then in 1940, a year after Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Mr. Jackson was sent there for real, elected to the House. He caught the nation's eye by speaking out early on against the witch-hunting excesses of the House Un-American Activities Committee. In 1952 Jackson won election to the Senate over a Red-baiting Republican, and sat on the committee that grilled Wisconsin's Joseph McCarthy in the 1954 Army-McCarthy hearings...
...majesty for the role. As for Fassbinder's actresses, they have always been lush galvanizers who surrender voluptuously to the jagged contours of melodrama. The viewer surrenders, just as willingly, to Trissenaar, a Diane Keaton-type, but with brains and guts and class; to Schygulla, with her wicked-witch profile and wicked, witty mouth; and to Sukowa, who, as sweet sad Mieze, blazes trails of girlish naiveté into the jungle of male psychopathy...