Word: bileful
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...Summers is not someone that I want to represent me,” she said. “He’s not someone that I want to represent Harvard, not someone that I want to represent the seal, Veritas.” But Goodman did not only spit bile about Summers. At one point, she managed to get in a back-handed compliment to the Man. “At least his case of foot-and-mouth disease is not as bad as the nation’s president,” she said. Unlike at President Bush?...
...ASIATIC BLACK BEAR is vanishing from mountainous regions of East Asia, Central Asia and Southeast Asia because bile from its gall bladder is used to treat cancer, asthma and other ailments...
...Army Corps of Engineers in a period of unrestrained pork barrel spending. Ask why FEMA head Michael Brown seemed to know less about the unfolding disaster than the average viewer of Fox News or CNN. But, please, spare the outlandish rhetoric, demagoguery, unsubstantiated speculation, and race-based bile. It is true that the Louisiana National Guard does have troops in Iraq, but the Mississippi National Guard has an even larger percentage of its forces overseas, and looting was virtually non-existent in the latter state while epidemic in the former. It is true that the funding for levy projects...
...does Jack inspire all the bile? It's not as if it were one of those seemingly hipster products that was actually created after much consumer testing by a conglomerate. Jack has a lovable indie backstory, starting out as one guy's website. In 2000, Bob Perry, a former DJ and station manager who had moved to Connecticut to be near his wife's aging parents, started fooling around with Internet radio. He got some cheap software that allowed him to randomize song order, causing "train wrecks"--ballads followed by headbangers. He put it up as jack.fm and slid...
...with one last sublime work. Saraband, the first film Bergman has directed for theatrical release in 20 years (he announced his retirement after Fanny), is a chamber piece: four characters, 10 dialogues. Yet Bergman, who turns 87 this month, gives the story such vigor and rigor, so much emotional bile and spilled blood, that it would shame a much younger director. Here is no mild afterthought to which a critic nods indulgently. This is a testament of love and anguish from the man who used to be called the greatest living filmmaker. Well, dammit, he was. And, as Saraband proves...