Word: killingly
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Ilocanos seem to need little excuse to kill. A month ago two men burst into the home of Florentino Lazo at Manzante village, blasted Lazo and his son José with carbines as they sat at dinner. Florentino had been suspected by his killers of recently doing away with Mariano and Isabelo Tayaba-who, in turn, were thought to have killed Lauriano and Pablo Sadabo. Besides, young José was scheduled to testify soon at still another murder trial. Police had all the motives they could want, and jailed two suspects...
...Crisologo, who served three terms, then lost to his enemy, Nacionalista Congressman Faustino Tobia. "Sure, I give my boys guns," admits Tobia (whose uncle is wanted for murder). "They need them to protect themselves, don't they?" Crisologo is equally frank: "I don't deny it. We kill Tobia's men. But we kill only one to every four or five of our own killed by his goons. We should get medals...
Last week, like pennant losers looking forward to next year, homeowners across the U.S. besieged garden stores for poison to kill off this year's waning crab grass, spades and shovels to dig it out of their lawns, sturdy seed to protect them against its ravages again in the spring. In Chicago, Vaughan's Seed Co. estimated that its 1959 lawn chemical sales are running 50% ahead of last year. In Marysville. Ohio, O. M. Scott & Sons, biggest U.S. lawn supply house, looked forward to a $30 million year, up $6,600,000 over record 1958. Said...
...turn was applied by the House Ways & Means Committee, which voted to kill a bill giving the President authority to raise the interest-rate ceiling on long-term Government bonds above the present 4½. This will force the Government to do more of its financing through short-term borrowing (under five years), on which there is no interest ceiling. Result: the Treasury will have to compete with consumers and small businessmen for short-term funds, thus placing pressure on fhe money market, forcing up short-term interest rates...
Lithe and lightfoot under the bright summer sun, the matador waited impatiently while the banderillas were planted. Then, with a series of spectacular redondos, slow, cape-twirling passes that prolonged the moment of peril, he prepared his bull for the kill. From the high-banked tiers of the arena at Málaga, Spaniards cracked out their drumfire oles. "Si!" his fans shouted at Luis Miguel Dominguin, "tú, el primero [yes, you're the best...