Word: feasting
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Lunchtime came; it was more like a funeral than a wedding feast. Well, maybe that's going too far: it wasn't so much like a funeral as it was like a meal served at the bedside of a critically ill patient. Afterward, Eisenhower suggested we go back to Washington by car. If we'd both been more satisfied with the outcome of our talks, it might have been a pleasant drive. But we weren't and it wasn't. I asked some questions just to be polite, and he answered with a few words...
...trailer just up the dirt road from his place. Somebody had collected a big baggie full of mushrooms from the fields, and they were tucked in the glove compartment of an abandoned car to be enjoyed after the ribs. A lot of people had collected for the big feast, and Rick Stacy was slowly basting the ribs with barbeque sauce, not concentrating on anything in particular. There were 27 pounds of ribs to be gone through that night, and Mike the four foot tall Great Dane decided he would avoid the hog traps that night and hang around...
...laundry bag full of grass from the farm somewhere around. Three or four joints were always circling among fifteen people, so one passed every five seconds. There was potato salad, lasagna, big loaves of bread, a huge salad, cases of beer, coca-cola, and other things proper to a feast. More people stopped...
...Romping. Lester's film has all this and more-sophisticated satire, opulent costumes, crashing swordplay, and a feast of historical fact-noblemen sniff clove-studded oranges as they walk through grimily Hogarthian streets; the King plays chess on a lawn-drawn board, with the palace dogs his four-footed chess pieces. Within this lovingly recreated world, Lester's musketeers are off and romping through an audacious barrage of pratfalls, sight gags, tottering demises and improbable acrobatics reminiscent of silent comedies...
...feast of St. Nicholas in 1273, Italian Dominican Friar Thomas Aquinas entered a chapel in Naples to say Mass before beginning a day of lecturing and writing. During the Mass, something profound happened to him: some kind of physical or nervous breakdown, perhaps accompanied by an overpowering mystical vision. Afterward, he ceased dictating his theological masterwork, the Summa Theologiae. "All that I have written," he explained to concerned friends, "seems to me like straw compared to what has now been revealed to me." He never wrote another line. Three months later-700 years ago last month-he died...