Word: pigged
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...businesses, the family farm. Though only about 3% of commercial farmers and ranchers now have computers, that number is expected to rise to nearly 20% within the next five years. One who has grasped the true faith is Bob Johnson, who helps run his family's 2,800-acre pig farm near De Kalb, 111. Outside, the winter's first snowflakes have dusted the low-slung roofs of the six red-and-white barns and the brown fields specked with corn stubble. Inside the two-room office building, Johnson slips a disc into his computer and types "D" (for dial...
...soon" now that Ted Kennedy has withdrawn. Orben's business is booming. Without money, people can only laugh or cry, and they prefer laughter. Anybody who runs for office these days, says Orben, better have some good jokes. Just ask Ronald (have you heard the one about the pig with the wooden leg? . . . ) Reagan...
...recently the Dillingers stood in a mountain pasture greeting hundreds of nearly naked black Dani tribesmen and women who had gathered for a traditional pig feast. The two missionaries seemed as much at ease as they would be at a church potluck supper in Leon's home town of Souderton, Pa. Leon chatted with the last man in the village to accept Christianity: the son of the sorcerer. Lorraine sampled food that a Dani woman had just pulled from the braising pit hollowed out of the ground for the occasion...
...experts who were trying to translate the Bible for the Dani tribe in Indonesia were thrown by the verse "All we like sheep have gone astray" (Isaiah 53:6). Reason: most of the Dani had never seen a sheep. "So," says Linguist David Scoville, "we thought of using a pig as a 'cultural equivalent.' " But then the missionaries had to contend with the succeeding verse, believed by Christians to foreshadow the Crucifixion, describing a lamb that is quietly "led to the slaughter." The translators decided they could not substitute pig for lamb in that context because pigs make...
...still the same old story. The Lisbon plane always descends like a kid's toy landing on the living-room rug. Stick-figure Nazis in animal faces (Strasser a wolf, his aide a fat little pig in glasses) come strutting off. That night at Rick's they chorus Die Wacht am Rhein, the stein-swinging bully song that is the Nazis' idea of a good time in a nightclub. The defiantly answering Marseillaise stirs the soul and raises its Pavlovian goose bumps for the 15th time. They still pronounce "exit visa" weirdly: "exit...