Word: slobbing
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...Customs Commissioner William von Raab begs to differ. "Occasionally they swing some poor slob out to make us feel they're cooperating," he says. "But it's nobody close to Noriega." Von Raab condemns the view that a pact with the devil is better than no pact at all: "At some point you become owned by the devil...
...would later become -- in Critic Peter Stitt's phrase -- "one of the very great heroes of American poetry" used to drop by Margret Ashbrook's house and slide his poems across the table for Margret and her mom to see. "He showed us a poem that had the word slob in it, and we told him that was an unpoetic word," recalls Margret. "But he said that's how it is, and that's how he feels, and that's how it's gonna stay. We tried all the time to get him to change things...
Anyway, Salvador begins with buffoonery, as a down-and-out photojournalist (James Woods) journeys to EI Salvador with his slob friend (Jim Belushi) in search when this dynamic duo are hassled by border guards and confronted by an openly hostile contingency at the U.S. embassy. Although this rapid change in tone is initially somewhat disconcerting, the scenes featuring Woods in a Hawaiian shirt and mirrored sunglasses perched atop of a mound of corpses are powerful in their sheer absurdity. Written and directed by Oliver Stone, who recently achieved recognition for Platoon, Salvador offers a telling juxtaposition of what Americans would...
...novel precedes Honor by a few years and more or less explains Charley's problem: he is girl-simple, as his associates accurately put it. He could be content with living the good life as a respected professional man, blasting some slob with an assault rifle here, acing out several losers with cyanide grenades there, and studying hard for his high school diploma at night school, where he earns the respect of all and is voted secretary-treasurer of his class...
Love may well be life's most blinding obsession, but Colwin is so obsessed with her subject that for the first six of her eight stories she actually neglects the players. Flesh fades before wordplay as he, elegant in his tweed coat and paisley scarf, embraces her, a slob in worn corduroys and ratty sweater, on the way to the frowsy couch in Billy's study. Readers can scarcely hear Billy's battered loafers thud to the floor for the detonations of insights and definitions...