Word: wailed
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...analysts on Wall Street sure are taking their lumps. They should have known tech stocks were going to collapse--and said so, wail the critics. A little more diligence on their part and maybe fewer folks would have speculated in profitless companies and lost so much money, goes the argument. Phooey. Why not blame analysts for poor retail sales during the holidays too; heck, for the entire economic slowdown? Didn't they cause the bubble that burst and left so many feeling poor? While we're at it, let's blame them for the weather, your weight problem and hanging...
...know, when my vision clears, I see another greasy buffalo-in this case, Mr. Affleck in the corner of the bar, chatting it up with Sarah Ryan and Jennie Tarr. Now don't get your panties in a bunch, Sarah and Jennie fans, I'm not going to wail on them. In fact, I think the girls are rather astute for figuring out that if Ben was lame enough to be at the Grille on a Saturday night (doesn't he have a premiere to go to?), he'd certainly be up for some chit-chat with a couple...
...then, the crown jewel of the voting fiasco, the ineptly designed Palm Beach "butterfly" ballot, a ballot that caused thousands of primarily minority voters to wail that they may have given their precious vote to (gasp!) Pat Buchanan. Even Pat "The Nazi" Buchanan admits that these votes were not for him (probably out of some sort of desire to keep all of his votes "ethnically pure"), but we need not just take his word for it. Statisticians put the probability that fewer than 1743 (the margin between Texas Gov. George W. Bush and Gore before this first recount...
...Jones just sounds so sad, it's painful. He's as sad-sounding as Hank Williams at his most abject. Of course, the difference is that Jones can sing, whereas Williams can only wail. Some words are clipped, some are stretched and played with, as only Jones can do. Some lines are almost whispered; others cried out - all beautifully set up by man who really understands what to do with lyrics. It's a pity that this is not a better recording, because the musicianship is also mighty tasty, with some pulsating pedal steel, a well-stroked fiddle...
...never lapses into an inchoate stream, his monologue is a form of self-flagellation reminiscent of The Sound and the Fury's Jason Compson. In Nocturne the monologue is lyrical, moving with the sheer inevitability of a musical composition. Dallas Roberts' Son makes each word into a plaintive wail. Even when the character lapses into humor (at one point even mimicking stand up comedy), the humor's forced nature hints at more shocks to come. The subject matter is graphic and serious business...