Word: tins
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...bourgeois who lived there could close up their downtown shops and come home for lunch and a nap. Now the street belongs to the dead and wounded. It looks like a vast denuded forest: dozens of steel corner posts mark the boundaries of burned-out houses. Sheets of rusted tin, the roofs of demolished houses, litter the ground...
...Aces of Wilmette, 111., who had coolly scouted out the weak spots in the Californians' game. During the match, the winners destroyed Fuchsia's confidence with a steady stream of verbal taunts. The Aces' reward: the Julius T. Nachazel Memorial Trophy, made from a couple of tin cans and some cut-glass jewels and named after a retired Michigan Tech professor whose name had appealed to the tournament's director, Jumbo Jim Davis...
...operates through deadpan-absurdist humor, and brute suspense. Names, conversations, non-sequitur events become progressively more other-worldly (sub-rather than sur-real) and the concatenations of bewildering vignettes are glued together only by the reader's curiosity. But all the while, DeLillo demonstrates his golden ear for the tin and tinsel of Americanese, and many of his dialogues skewer perfectly the soft spots in academic double-talk, adolescent vagueness, the jargon of nuclear warfare (as in Herman Kahn's own book of the dead. On Thermonuclear War), public relations yes-speak, and the excruciatingly serious military-religious language...
...Russell. Their work has some historical interest - though contemporary photos have much more - but it is negligible as art. No whit of pictorial sensibility enlivens Remington's slickly painted scenes of frontier life, with their walrus-whiskered rustics poking guns at one another or staring into gaudy tin sunsets from the knobby back of a cayuse: they are what they aimed to be, illustrations for magazines like Collier's, nothing more. The earlier artists had, at least, bequeathed a sense of immanence, of epic landscape and idealism to later American art; Remington and Russell left only a vulgar...
...next day, the column moved 13 miles north to Chon Thanh, a lazy town of tin houses with thatched roofs between Lai Khe and An Loc. The townspeople, exuding the blithe fatalism common to many Vietnamese, seemed to be enjoying the show. "Some people are scared," confessed Restaurateur, Tu Ca, "but not enough to leave. Some of the rich have taken their children to Saigon, but all the regular people stay." Ca intended to stay and defend his reputation for serving the town's best chao long (a soup concocted of pork, noodles and vegetables...