Word: deadpan
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...politician's guidebook. At the top of the arc, there is a smile that fairly breathes a grandfatherly benevolence. A shade below that, there's an omni-purpose politician's grin. At the middle of the arc, Al's smile turns into a squarely set, unrehearsed-looking deadpan, suitable for framing and hanging in a standup comics' Hall of Fame. And at the bottom of the arc, there's a ferocious scowl, reserved for anyone foolish enough to disrupt the proceedings of the honorable City Council...
...presides, a group of taxi drivers was gathered to press a certain point. When the hackmen were respectfully applauding the grandstand overtures of some of the councilors ("I've supported the cabbies for 30 years"), it was Grandfather Al beaming down from the dais. When the drivers were testifying, Deadpan Al nodded gravely at their protests, seemingly recording it all into his store of wisdom. But when catcalls and boos started to swell in the gallery, Ferocious Al glanced, disgusted, toward the City Clerk and said, sotto voce, "They sure can turn on you." He might have said, "I sure...
...pale face expressionless, her hands folded decorously in her lap and her body perfectly still. The same, somewhat unsettling demeanor marked her press conferences. At times she would walk about clutching tight to a large doll. Asked how she felt about becoming the focus of world adulation, she deadpanned: "It's nothing special. I feel just the same as before." Did she ever think she might not win a gold medal? "No, I knew that I would win." Deadpan too was the way the press in Rumania handled her conquests; the achievements of the team as a whole were...
...feel there would be times when Jimmy would need me, just to kick things around. But I don't want a full-time job. I'd just like to be there for some of the tough decisions, perhaps a few days each week." His face, usually deadpan, took on an even more set look. "I think Jimmy's going to have lots of big problems in the beginning with this Government reorganization thing. I think I could help him keep the pressure...
Cabrera's pessimism and deadpan irony cement these fragments into a book. Whether he is describing some feat of unbelievable bravery, such as peasants armed only with machetes attacking a Spanish cavalry unit, some amazing apathy or some quite ordinary cowardice, he always deflates heroic claims that men control their destiny. Battles are planned with strategy and won by blind chance. So many of these incidents are simultaneously horrible and funny that the reader is only left wondering, or cynical...