Word: barrelfuls
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...course we had our reasons. We knew that we were, and would remain, a minority. But more importantly, we assumed that capitalism's power came, as we used to say, from the barrel of the gun: the Vietnamese, the Panthers, and the protestors in University Hall seemed to prove that. The fact that the vast majority of American voters, by secret ballot in free and general elections, vote for the capitalist system every time they are given the chance seemed to us some kind of trick...
...resolved. "The subcommittee believes that it has received responses from some of these persons that were not candid," its 2,313-page report said. "This prevented it from fully resolving the briefing-book issue." In a strange twist on an old metaphor, Chairman Albosta said: "We have a warm barrel, but the smoke is still to be found.'' Nonetheless, the report concluded that the Reagan campaign conducted "organized efforts" to obtain documents from the Carter camp...
...after the Salvadoran election, Republican Senator Jesse Helms claimed that he had uncovered "a covert plan" under which CIA funds were directly funneled into the campaign of Christian Democrat José Napoleón Duarte. Said Helms: "The State Department and the CIA bought Mr. Duarte lock, stock and barrel." Yet the fact that the ultraconservative North Carolinian, who openly supported Duarte's rightist adversary Roberto d'Aubuisson, took the lead on the issue may have muted the impact of the revelation...
...rule out the possibility of a Libyan act of ultimate defiance. In the meantime a coroner's court was told that Constable Fletcher had died of stomach wounds from shots fired by a high-velocity weapon, and that eyewitnesses had seen smoke and flames emanating from the barrel of an AK-47 automatic rifle thrust from an upstairs window of the embassy. For most of last week, her constable's cap lay on the pavement where it had fallen, still within firing range of Libyans inside the embassy. On Thursday, a fellow officer flouted orders and retrieved...
...rotund man with the barrel chest and impeccable mustache would sit down at the piano, pop his fingers a couple of times to get the rhythm just right and, boom, his band would take off. Reeds and brasses would blast out in an ensemble sharp enough to shave with, trombones explosively punctuating the seductive murmurs of the saxophones. As the smoke cleared, there would be the piano, light and airy in the right hand, gentle in the left, keeping the whole thing together. "I'm only part of the rhythm section," William (''Count") Basie would...