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1965 / August | View All Issues |

August 1965

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Untitled·

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Letters

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The editor’s easy chair

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James Bond, Mr. Johnson, and the intellectuals·

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After hours

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Auction by Early Bird·

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After hours

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Happenings on upper Broadway·

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A comparative dig

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The American nun·

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Poor, chaste, and restive

Poetry

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The whelks·

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Article

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Think big·

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An open letter to the secretary of the Interior

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The chicken-god·

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Poetry

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Petulant thoughts toward the end of August·

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Collection

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A doctor prescribes for the AMA·

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A doctor prescribes for the AMA·

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Article

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High cost of losing·

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Article

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How I got into show business·

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Article

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Footnote from Hemingway’s Paris, 1964·

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Article

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What computers can’t do·

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Washington insight

100, 102-105 PDF

America the middle-aged·

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Notice

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Starting in September . . .·

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The new books

106, 108-110 PDF

New books of poems·

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From last August to this

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Hamlet without the prince·

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Miss Jewett to Miss McCarthy·

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113-114 PDF

Landmark work on contraception·

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Exquisite insultress·

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[Coming in Harper’s]

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Coming in Harper’s·

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Maine, in three tenses·

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Cathedrals of the cut-rate·

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Music in the round

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And also . . .·

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Music in the round

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Vogue or revolution?

Jazz notes

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

Photograph © Jon Lowenstein/NOOR

Hours for which New Orleans’s airport was partly evacuated in February over a package later found to contain gumbo:

5

Researchers suggested that Abraham Lincoln suffered from a genetic mutation that destroys nerve cells in the cerebellum rather than Marfan disease, which makes people grow tall and thin, with long tapering fingers.

Greece evacuated 72,000 people from the town of Thessaloniki while an undetonated World War II–era bomb was excavated from beneath a gas station.

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"It is an interesting and somewhat macabre parlor game to play at a large gathering of one’s acquaintances: to speculate who in a showdown would go Nazi. By now, I think I know. I have gone through the experience many times—in Germany, in Austria, and in France. I have come to know the types: the born Nazis, the Nazis whom democracy itself has created, the certain-to-be fellow-travelers. And I also know those who never, under any conceivable circumstances, would become Nazis."

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