WordWealth: incinerate
in·cin·er·ate
,
v.t., -at·ed, -at·ing.
to burn or reduce to
ashes; cremate.
[1545–55; < ML
inciner
ātus
(ptp. of incinerāre)
< L in- IN-2
+ ciner- (s. of cinis) ashes + -ātus
-ATE1]
—in·cin
er·a
tion,
n.
(Random
House Webster's Unabridged).
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When Christiane Amanpour asked President Jacques Chirac about it on
CBS's "60 Minutes," he replied: "Because The
New York Times is a serious
newspaper, as soon as I read this I ordered an inquiry. I can now
confirm officially, after an inquiry by the French foreign ministry,
France and French companies have never endorsed or even provided such
material to Iraq. So I am clearly denying this allegation."--Mr.
Chirac knows more than I do about trade with Iraq: in the late 1970's,
he facilitated France's multibillion-dollar sale of the Osirak nuclear
reactor to the rising Saddam. (After Iraq officially stated that the
reactor's purpose was not to incinerate Tehran but "to
eliminate Zionism," Israel destroyed it.)
—— William Safire;
French Connection II; The New York
Times; March 20, 2003
It is incongruous that the article should be talking about metal in
mass incineration. The principal reason why metal should not be
in question is that mass-incinerators are not technically capable of
handling it. Scrap metal as well as bulky appliances and automobiles
are specifically prohibited from the 1,800-degree mass-incineration
furnaces. ——
No
Safe Limit For Radiation Exposure;
The New York Times; Jan 26, 2002
We will not declare war. We might bomb
the hell out of Baghdad and whup the Iraqi Republican Guard with tens
of thousands of ground troops and incinerate in the process -
unfortunately, of course - a whole bunch of Iraqi civilians. And we
might depose the government by force and take over the country. But
our politicians will not, at any point, admit that we are at war. It
will be, instead, a crisis resolved by military action, or some other
weasel phrase. —— Rod
Liddle;
We'll Call It Anything but War;
Guardian; Feb 26 2003
Some of the stories in ''Things You Should Know'' -- an
archly didactic title considering the things in it that you've no real
need to know -- display the grotesque very much for its own sake. The
extremity is disproportionate to any human message; the
transgressiveness a sort of artistic complacency. ''Rockets Round the
Moon'' is an example. Here, as in some of her other fiction, Homes
writes not only of the sterility but of the dark nightmare corners of
suburban life. The narrator, a boy whose divorced parents are chilly
and dietarily correct (large salad meals), spends his time in a
neighboring household, marked by warmth, noise and baloney sandwiches.
It is a refuge until the father, speeding, runs over a child. That
life offers no safety, even, or especially, in the suburbs, would be a
reasonable point. Homes gothicizes it by having the repentant father
try to incinerate himself in his barbecue pit; and his son, the
narrator's pal, attempts an equivalent suicide by standing up suddenly
during an amusement park ride. He manages only to throw up, befouling
the narrator, while the author as arbitrary deity seems, as it were,
to hold herself coolly apart. ——
Richard Eder;
Oddness of the Heart;
The New York Times; Sept, 29, 2002
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