Word: slicings
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...nicely in his new job by talking modestly to the housewives in terms they understood. "I suppose I am really going to run the biggest shop the world has ever seen - to supply the nation's food. It is a stimulating thought. It strikes the imagination." A slice of bread wasted each day by each Briton, he then explained, equals 30 shiploads of wheat in a year. A teaspoonful of tea for each person "and none for the pot" would save 60 shiploads...
...Moscow. His speech was an interesting borsch whose recipe was two parts passivity to one part provocation. Russia must "refrain from participating in the war between the big European powers." In fact, Comrade Molotov was all for peace -on Germany's terms and with Russia keeping her slice of Poland. On the other hand he charged the Allies with trying to use the Finnish war as "a starting point for war against the U. S. S. R." and paid special respects to ex-fellow travelers in France and Britain, "all those Attlees and Blums ... all those lackeys of capital...
...goes Germany's way, Italy might enter, but only when the issue is clear and the last battle half-fought. In the last analysis Italy has far more to gain from beating the Allies with Germany than from watching the Allies win-to wit, a juicy slice of the French colonial empire, plus a share in control of Central Europe...
...industry, was not gaily charging around among the flock in approved spring fashion. Steel operations had had no "normal spring rise." While production stayed around 60% of capacity, the level of new buying was around 45%, below Big Steel's 55% break-even rate. A whacking slice of production, percentagewise, was still going into already bulky inventory. The story of the situation was written in the price of steel scrap, down to $16.50 a ton (the pre-war level). Worst of all: after a good fall, Steel's biggest customer, the auto industry, was running into signs...
...which showed greater imagination. It was the work of Wall Street's most successful high financier, a slim, shy, soft-shirted man in his forties who wears a belt which his vest doesn't quite reach and sits around in the kitchen after midnight snacking on a slice of sugared bread dampened with milk. He came as close as anyone has to beating Wall Street's gag about merging Worthington Pump and International Nickel, to get Pumper Nickel...