Word: lamentations
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...seem to have gotten sidetracked; this is a letter of recommendation, not a lament. Admittedly, I am not a premier academic, but I am better acquainted with this student's academic progress than any other authority, save perhaps his mother. I have followed his academic progress for over twenty years now, from his tens tables to last semester's electives. He has done well, but recently has developed a complex: he fancies himself a cog in a great machine, an 8-digit number in a vast academic apparatus...
...studio -- indeed, the same actors play both sets of roles. This connection leads to countless comic effects. In the splashiest, the perennially disappointed "other woman" (Randy Graff) of both plot lines switches characters, costumes and locales in mid-song, all without missing a beat of her ferociously funny lament, You Can Always Count...
...long, many U.S. companies have looked upon the ecology movement as bad for business. Putting scrubbers on smokestacks is expensive, they lament, and drafting all those environmental-impact statements can consume an enormous amount of time and resources. But while cleanup efforts cost money in the short run, they can eventually pay hefty dividends. As more and more firms are discovering, many environmentally sound practices can build up goodwill, win customers and produce a healthier bottom line...
...film ends with a great shot. Blaze walks out of the state house where Earl's corpse lies, and the camera ascends to take in Long's old domain. Randy Newman's poignant song Louisiana 1927 -- a cracker's lament about a devastating flood -- reaches its apogee of symphonic paranoia with the line "They're tryin' to wash us away." Just then, the camera discovers the Mississippi roaring past, washing away Earl and his wily, wild, pre-TV tradition of Southern politics. What has happened down there is that the wind has changed, and for its last three minutes Blaze...
Americans have grown inured to crass commercialism taken to excess, with corporate sponsorship profaning everything from bowl games to the Bill of Rights. But somehow Thanksgiving has resisted the blandishments of an age of avarice. How the greeting-card sharpies and the flower-power florists must lament a national holiday in which they are doomed to play such a minor role. For if one cares to send the very best, one flies home for Thanksgiving. Even the TV networks have never figured out a way to transform Thanksgiving into a prime-time pageant, which is why the Macy's Parade...