Word: tarts
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...roster of Republican candidates between now and November. She laughs off the notion that rough language might incite further acts of aggression against Democrats; instead, she's put crosshair markings on her Facebook page to identify lawmakers she has targeted for defeat in the fall election. Quippy and tart, she mocks the "lamestream media" for distracting voters by distorting GOP positions. And by carefully controlling her own visibility, she has become more irresistible as cable-news and viral content...
...final health care vote. Palin herself has been the subject of criticism for urging her followers to "reload" rather than "retreat" after passage, and for using crosshair markings on her Facebook page to identify the list of Democrats she has targeted for defeat in the fall election. Quippy and tart, she mocked the "lamestream media," and offered her usual punch of charm and charisma, something the public and the press have hungered for since she mostly limited her exposure to Facebook updates, Twitter tweets and calculated appearances on Fox News, her new employer...
...said Dick Cheney during the bizarre and riveting electronic duel between the former and current Vice Presidents on this past weekend's Sunday morning shows. A tart comment punctuated by the artificial nicety friend is a common device in the congressional culture where both men toiled for years, but from Cheney's lips on this occasion it seemed particularly hollow, buried within a scorching critique of his White House successors. Biden gave as good as he got, blasting the Bush Administration with energy and spirit. (See pictures of Republican memorabilia...
...deep smoldered. All told, 37 people were killed and close to 100 wounded in the attacks, which came amid rancorous sectarian debate over Iraq's looming elections. Looking back, I'm gripped by the scent of oranges cutting through the smell of charred vehicles and flesh: tart, from fruit not yet ripe, shaken early from the trees by the blast and scattered amid the debris...
...through the smells of charred vehicles and humans as I watched the aftermath, waiting in vain to speak to a mother whose daughter was rushed to the hospital. It would waft toward me on the breeze of what could have been a normal January afternoon. The orange smell was tart, from fruit not yet ripe, shaken early from the trees by the blast and scattered whole, split and squashed amidst the debris...