And in the back, behind there, not giving a damn … and all the bright colours and stuff just drops off when you get to this section. White wrap-up, big red letters; LARD! Eat this shit and die! LARD! Kills you stone dead! Does blood move through your arteries? Block it up with LARD! Nutritional advice? No! Proteins? What the hell are they? Carbohydrates? Never heard of them, Guv! Fat? You bet your bum! We've got some some of that, yes sirree Bob! Oh, we're full of that, mate … [later on] Remember that campaign for butter, "Welcome back to butter"? "Welcome back to LARD!" We never went nowhere! Just been sitting at the back, quietly waiting … like Jack Nicholson …
Eddie Izzard
Americans don't like plain talk anymore. Nowadays they like fat talk. Show them a lean, plain word that cuts to the bone and watch them lard it with thick greasy syllables front and back until it wheezes and gasps for breath as it comes lumbering down upon some poor threadbare sentence like a sack of iron on a swayback horse.
"Facilitate" is typical of the case. A generation ago only sissies and bureaucrats would have said "facilitate" in public. Nowadays we are a nation of "facilitate" utterers.
"Facilitate" is nothing more than a gout-ridden, overstuffed "ease." Why has "ease" fallen into disuse among us? It is a lovely little bright snake of a word which comes hissing quietly off the tongue and carries us on, without fuss and French horns, to the object which is being eased.
This is English at its very best. Easing is not one of the great events of life; it does not call for Beethoven; it is not an idea to get drunk on, to wallow in, to engage in multiple oleaginous syllabification until it becomes a pompous ass of a word like "facilitate."Russell Baker
A slab of bread "buttered" with lard and, if you were lucky, seasoned with salt and pepper, was a luxury.
Jimmy Hoffa
So come back and we'll take them all on. So come back to your life on the lam. So come back to your old black sheep man. He says, "I am waiting on hoof and on hand. I am waiting, all hated and damned. I am waiting - I snort and I stamp. I am waiting, you know that I am, calmly waiting to make you my lamb."
Okkervil River
They were gunning the motorcycles. There were these little backfires. There was one noise like that. I thought it was a backfire. Then next I saw Connally grabbing his arms and saying "no, no, no, no, no," with his fist beating. Then Jack turned and I turned. All I remember was a blue-gray building up ahead. Then Jack turned back so neatly, his last expression was so neat... you know that wonderful expression he had when they'd ask him a question about one of the ten million pieces they have in a rocket, just before he'd answer. He looked puzzled, then he slumped forward. He was holding out his hand ... I could see a piece of his skull coming off. It was flesh-colored, not white — he was holding out his hand ... I can see this perfectly clean piece detaching itself from his head. Then he slumped in my lap, his blood and his brains were in my lap ... Then Clint Hill [the Secret Service man], he loved us, he made my life so easy, he was the first man in the car ... We all lay down in the car ... And I kept saying, Jack, Jack, Jack, and someone was yelling "he's dead, he's dead." All the ride to the hospital I kept bending over him, saying "Jack, Jack, can you hear me, I love you, Jack."
Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis
They lard their lean books with the fat of others' works.
Robert Burton
Izzard, Eddie
Jaatteenmaki, Anneli
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