Word: thunder
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Yesterday there was thunder on the left. Instead of firing from the hip with its usual mimeographed salvo, the Harvard Young Communist League has this time taken careful aim at a weak point in the Rooseveltian armor and discharged a telling blast. The New Deal foreign policy is the target, and a tempting one it is, even though Mr. Glenn Frank, in his comprehensive anti-New Deal program of last week, passed it by, intentionally or otherwise. Thus beset on two flanks at once, the New Deal will find its leftist critics the hardest to answer. Mr. Roosevelt, when...
Last week there was thunder on the right. Mr. Glenn Frank released his long-germinating Republican battle-chart for the scrutiny and approval of good anti-New Dealers everywhere. Like all well-written platforms, it makes pleasant reading, paints an inspiring Utopia, but makes little sense without an analysis of the economic and social skeleton that supports it. Under such a probe, Mr. Frank's essay shows up as something far different from the trumpet call to "the good life" that it purports...
...Nick Carter, Master Detective," hot out of the pulps, supplies some streamlined blood-and-thunder to supplement the drawing-room, farce of "Remember?" There is also an edition of "Information Please," adapted from the air waves. Curiously enough, it isn't as good on celluloid. Canada Dry's experts might better have been cast in some Boris Karloff picture to scare the kiddies...
...roof of his mouth watching the test flights of a new pursuit ship that the U. S. Army Air Corps called XP-39. Slim as a lance, it ripped across the field faster than anything they had ever seen, faded to a dot against the sky before the thunder of its exhaust had echoed off the hangar walls. And when it came home to roost, at the hangar of Bell Aircraft Corp., it waddled up to the apron on three wheels with its tail in the air, something no pursuit ship had ever done before. More mindful of its deadly...
Take the description of Crockett when he "grated thunder with his teeth," or the woman who used to "brag that she war a streak of litenin set up edgeways and buttered with quicksilver," or the cold morning when "the airth had actually friz fast in her axis, and couldn't turn around; the sun had got jammed between two cakes of ice under the wheels, an' thar he had been shinin and working to get loose, till he friz fast in his cold sweat." This work is no mere potboiler...