Word: fats
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Squaw and Pemmican Unite. David's pemmican is not a simple hunk of dried buffalo meat. It needs, for its perfection, to be compounded with thimbleberries, grasshoppers, elk marrow, pounded buffalo tongues, moose noses, beaver tails, fish fat, porcupine belly and otter blubber, not to speak of flies and maggots. Squaws, too, could be improved upon. But when Hero David meets a squaw whose bare bosom makes him think of a pair of "sun-darkened thimbleberries," the two passions of his career are united; he is a goner. To reassure critics of integration, Author Fisher takes pains to show...
When he is not trying to wash off all that bear fat from Princess Sunday, big dimwit David is trying to hold up his end of the fur trade against the encroaching North West Company-or "pedlars," as they are called by Hudson Bay's old guard-and H.B.'s head man, Lord Selkirk, a contemptible character who weighs only 110 Ibs. While brooding on his diet ("In a day or two he intended to eat an entire raw liver, for he had been feeling groggy lately; a straight meat diet was getting him down"), David manages...
...these 42 stories are worth a hundred novels in which the heart of the matter is cased in a padding of sociological fat. Life, Aran Islander O'Flaherty seems to say, can only be understood in terms of death. Like many another Irishman, he sees the skull beneath the skin, just as his starveling heroes see the sharp rocks gnaw through the thin soil. ("I wish you a happy death," cries one after another of his characters, as if the wish were the greatest thing life had to offer.) To underline his point that man's nature...
Then a kindly, grey-haired producer jumps up and says he's got to have Twink in his play: "The only people who can play children are children." The kindly producer's kindly playwright writes in a fat part for Mama Girl, and at the smash New York opening, who should turn up but Papa Boy and Peter Bolivia Agriculture. Curtain. Clinch...
...stubborn refusal to toss beanballs, Roberts resembles the late great Walter Johnson of the lackluster Washington Senators. The "Big Train" was a self-confident competitor who occasionally went so far as to serve up fat ones to hitters suffering from nerve-racking slumps. But throwing at a batter was unthinkable. Johnson never even waited for umpires to discard scuffed balls; as soon as he saw one he tossed it aside, for fear it might force him to throw his fast one wild and injure the man at the plate...