Later, a mantastic crowd of foxy playboys and players lose their inhibitions (and more often then not, their shirts) shaking it to high energy dance tunes.

[H]e took up an old newspaper; / The paper was right easy to peruse; / He read an article the king attacking, / And a long eulogy of Patent Blacking.

The oldest of five, son of a union drywaller, Driscoll was raised Roman Catholic in a rough neighborhood on the outskirts of Seattle.

He'd decided at the last minute to put the man to work, and as a result, Harrison had stolen the show. The audience was eating from the palm of his hand, and he knew it.