Word: glopped
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Buried in this vat of feel-good glop are two piquant themes. One is a child's need to believe that invisible friends are real. Early on, when the four ghosts desert child Thomas and tell him, "Just be with your mommy and daddy," you can read the panic in his eyes; he is as bereft as Baby Jessica. The other theme is an adult's need to believe that our final worldly departure might come only after we have made peace with others and, thus, ourselves. That's worth a tear. Even a critic will cry for what might...
...easy to forget just how dangerous it is. First, go to any gardening center and chemical-supply house. For little more than $400, buy several 100-lb. bags of urea and some bottles of nitric and sulfuric acid. Mix the urea and acids into a thick paste, put the glop in plastic bags, then pack them in a cardboard box. Next attach either a blasting cap or a detonator made of some batteries, an alarm clock and a container of nitroglycerine. But be very, very careful. "If it spills on the floor, and you scuff your shoe in it," says...
...book has appeared at a time that it's most profoundly needed by people. First of all, people are about to make a big decision, aren't they, in this election. I think that the convoluted folds of people's brains are filled with some sort of gook and glop. It's not possible for them to think clearly. And I think that laughter, the kind of laughter that my book generates, will serve as a kind of dental floss for the convoluted folds of people's brains so that they are able to make a perspicacious choice on November...
...story of the turtles' birth certainly strays from the superhero script. They started out as aquarium pets, but mutated after falling into a pool of radioactive glop in a New York sewer. They were raised by a rat, Splinter, who taught them Ninja skills to fight crime...
...another piece of one's childhood is consigned to oblivion. The reason those hot dogs linger so deliciously in the memory is not the hot dogs themselves, actually, but the toasted buns they came in, and the yellow pseudobuttery glop that reduced the toasted buns to toasted mush, and the elongated white cardboard containers that held the toasted mush so that one could make a game of trying to gnaw on the hot-dog mush without getting one's hands and face entirely covered with the dripping glop -- a game that, to one's parents' despair, one invariably lost...