Word: raspings
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...World foundered on the crass realities of exploitation. After Raleigh, Novelist V.S. Naipaul writes, in this extraordinary evocative re-creation of the history of his native Trinidad: "The ships from Europe came and went. The plantations grew. The brazilwood, felled by slaves in the New World, was rasped [the bark scraped off] by criminals in the rasp houses of Amsterdam. The New World as medieval adventure ended; it had become a cynical extension of the developing old world, its commercial underside...
Yablonski was no stranger to venom. Reports TIME Correspondent Mark Sullivan: "Joseph A. Yablonski was a rasp-voiced man with bushy eyebrows and a kind of wild glint in his eye. He did not by his presence establish an air of calm and reasonableness. He was a man haunted by many demons. It is not surprising that he died violently, reaching for his gun. He was in and around violence much of his life...
HARVARD Yard was a mosaic of confused activity as the university moved into its second week of crisis. The throb of rock bands echoed from the old walls, sometimes drowning out the rhythmic chants of black militants, often punctuated by the harsh rasp of bullhorns blaring out strike messages. The walled yard had the air of an ancient red brick city under siege. White sheets emblazoned with STRIKE in bold red letters hung from the windows of freshman dormitories and classroom buildings. Strike posters and copies of the antiadministration underground paper Old Mole were stapled to the venerable elm trees...
...acting make her seem as if she had gone sleepless since her last picture. The dubbed voice of that fine character actor. Jack Hawkins, limited to esophageal speaking since his operation for throat cancer two years ago, is thin, out-of-sync and does not remotely resemble his distinctive rasp. Even Chato, the Indian chief, is misplayed. The part was given to Woody Strode, a Negro ex-football star for the Los Angeles Rams. He speaks, and looks, like a redskin in blackface...
...final section to "get brighter, and end with optimism for the Great Society which we hope to get." Over crashing percussion, the music mounted in overlapping panels of winds and strings. But it all seemed pumped up; and the amplified piano vibrations that ended the work were like the rasp of escaping air as the climax, the theme of hope, and the listener's expectations all deflated at once...