Word: helling
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...That was only the beginning. After months of frustration, something inside Freeman said "to hell with it." Flailing his hands and pouring out a torrent of angry words, he pushed on: "We know that the Republican Administration left agriculture in a first-class mess. The biggest mess they left in Washington was agriculture. And it's even more their responsibility that they're being completely negative and trying to frustrate every effort to clear up that mess." The G.O.P. position now, he said, was " 'Let's leave it in a mess because it's going...
...production; RCA TV sets, for instance, were made by Egyptian workers from imported do-it-yourself kits at the rate of 200 a day, but only two or three locally produced cabinets were turned out daily. According to a typical Cairo joke, Nasser dies and goes to the Egyptian hell, but finds the place less terrifying than expected. Reason: because of a severe shortage of fuel, the oil does not boil often, the rack is always breaking down for lack of 20 spare parts, and the pitchforking devils-like true Egyptian civil servants-sign in at eight o'clock...
...they were trying to crash a party, and if some jolly clod says, "Put your John Hancock right here, Cary," he says, "My name is not John Hancock, and I have no intention of putting it anywhere." On one memorable occasion, a rebuffed fan snapped: "Who the hell do you think you are?" Grant, cool as the north wind, answered: "I know who I am. I haven't the vaguest idea who you are, and furthermore I don't care to know...
...talkative Rogers, who by then was surely wondering whether he was still working. "Who the hell am I?" he protested. "Just a voter and not even a registered one. What do I know about it? Perhaps I didn't explain myself well. I even like Collingwood. I've dropped him some fan mail...
Then begins the soulless parade of empty months. One day, as Stroud paces around the prison yard in a scene so desolatingly forlorn that Dante might have pictured it as another circle of Hell, a cloudburst drops a baby sparrow at his feet. Stroud carries it to his cell, cradles it in a sock, nourishes it on ground-up cockroaches. Relatives of other prisoners start sending them canaries. Soon the entire isolation block is trilling, and convicts who get bored with their pets give them to Stroud to keep. With painstaking perfectionism, he fashions cages out of packing crates...