Word: grassed
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...Lebanonization of Hizballah," as the trend is dubbed, is evident in Hizballah's efforts to improve the lot of its grass-roots base, the country's more than 1.5 million mostly impoverished Shi'ites. Far from fixating on Islamic law, Hizballah's representatives in parliament have busied themselves winning funding for projects that will benefit their constituents. One recent morning, as Hizballah fighters were launching attacks on Israeli outposts in southern Lebanon, a Hizballah M.P. was walking Lebanese journalists around Beirut to highlight the more mundane problem of potholes. Says Mohammed Baydoun, an M.P. for Amal, a rival...
Somehow this plotless work becomes suspenseful. The promising Thoroughbred goes lame; the unassuming little chestnut wins a race. "A football game is one story, one day a week. That's boring," a track addict explains to his son. "A day at the races is thousands of stories, with grass around, trees around, a breeze, some mountains in the background." Smiley tells just a few of those stories, but it makes for a fine...
...going to eat meat, there's no real reason the internal organs, properly cooked, should be any less clean than regular meat. After all, at least those parts of the animal don't touch the soil or grass. For that matter, a piece of cabbage, seeing as it's pulled off the soil, is pretty disgusting. Organ meats cooked well achieve a level of intensity no chicken-breast dish can ever hope to match. It's odd that organ meats tend to fall either in the lowest end or the highest end of the culinary caste system...
...almost obligatory for a writer to pad down in March to some funky Florida field and wax poetic about the summer game. Today you're lucky if you can find a single line of baseball coverage. Spring once meant the crack of the bat, the smell of the grass. Today it means college hoops, March Madness...
Between breakfast and lunch, the landscape turned swampy. I was fascinated by the strange rectangular pools bordered by skinny strips of land. They were catfish ponds. They soon gave way to fields of bright green grass alternating with patches of cotton stubble. Nearing Yazoo City, Miss.--our second stop after Memphis, with six more to go--we watched folks hanging out on their stoops, kids playing, pickup trucks winding along two-lane country roads. To this untutored Yankee, it was a first glimpse of what I had known only from fiction and song, from Flannery O'Connor to Hank Williams...