Word: poniards
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...what happens when a catastrophe overwhelms the cartoonist's ability to poniard a convenient victim on pen point? In Osborn's case, the assassination of John F. Kennedy left him nearly unable to draw. After a while, the cartoonist wrote his dealer, Edith Halpert, "I began to lay down my resentment of the disordered, disoriented, dislocated, DISJOINTED being-not so much Oswald as against the fragmented, illogical destroyers of man's best hopes...
...Sicilian boy (Alberto Sordi) who makes good in Milan, comes home to visit the old folks, and suddenly finds himself, his pretty young wife and his two darling daughters involved in the insidious toils of La Mafia, the feudality of terror that for several centuries has ruled Sicily with poniard, pistol and poison. Smile a bit sadly when Sordi, a born comedian, tries to play the hero straight. And wink when the director, obviously afraid his customers will get sick of all that lumpy peasant pasta, slyly introduces a piece of smooth Brazilian cheesecake (Norma Bengell...
...solitary figure of Sir Winston Churchill, who had often been Nye Bevan's bitterest foe. When Gaitskell recalled some of Nye's fierce sallies, including the attack on Churchill when he cried that he welcomed the "opportunity of picking the bloated bladder of lies with the poniard of truth," Churchill gave a fleeting smile of remembrance and made a gracious bow toward the speaker...
...enlightenment. His poem, modestly spread across the center-fold of his 16-page publication, is graphically in the form of a giant phallic symbol, rising, one gathers, from the base of mediocrity and human rubbish. Mr. Robinson displays an amazing knowledge of six, seven, and eight-letter words, including poniard (spelled poignard, with which Webster is unfamiliar, on the preceding page by Harry Kemp, described as "a former friend of Eugene O'Neill") and cautery, the household word of course for what happens when you pick up a hot frying...
Bladder & Poniard. Next day burly, blue-suited Nye Bevan strode forward. Looking straight at Churchill, he lashed out: "I welcome this opportunity of pricking the bloated bladder of lies with the poniard of truth." Churchill heaved himself to his feet and objected to the word "lies." The bewigged Speaker overruled him. Thereafter Churchill sat back impassively, sometimes as if dozing, and let the waves of invective roll over him. The only sign of anger was the growing pallor of his face...