The delight he takes in his work, combined with a pair of bloodcurdling nicknames—"Chainsaw Al" and "Rambo in pinstripes"—have propelled Mr Dunlap into the ranks of the rich and infamous.His humiliating departure from Sunbeam has called forth a torrent of jokes about tree-felling equipment and Sylvester Stallone.
However bloodcurdling the political rhetoric, financial markets think banks will be bailed out again.
Early in the record she makes a hairpin turn from a fragile, softly glowing Sephardic song entitled "Una Madre Comió Asado" to a bloodcurdling Sardinian number entitled "Tancas Serradas a Muru" — I had to double-check the credits to make sure that Upshaw was still the singer.
Violeta Urmana and Plácido Domingo sang Kundry and Parsifal much as they did at the Met two years ago, Urmana with a fiercely expressive high range, including a beautifully bloodcurdling high B, and Domingo with enough charisma to cover up patches of dry, short-winded tone.
Hosts on other morning shows project bloodcurdling good cheer and seem to have been coached on how to appear to have a sense of humor, but have they ever actually made you laugh?
Welles's film of "Macbeth" (1948) presents a calculatedly cold, vicious version of Shakespeare, with stagey whispers and bloodcurdling screams echoing in a cavernous acoustic space.
Also in Petersen's dressing room was Jennifer Roderer, a mezzo-soprano who is a member of the Met company, and who has been serving as the operatic equivalent of Petersen's stunt double: when, at the opera's conclusion, Lulu is killed, offstage, by Jack the Ripper, it is Roderer, not Petersen, who delivers the final, bloodcurdling scream.
There were no roars or bloodcurdling yells; there was only silence, and then, suddenly, a sigh — a deep, moaning sound, seemingly expressive of release from something dark and fetid.
As for the spectacular creativity of early modern Europe, this somehow flourished alongside bloodcurdling efforts at mind control.
This quiet woman in a plain cotton dress came onstage and proceeded to stun everyone in the room with the most hair-raising, bloodcurdling, fantastical, yet utterly believable, tale I'd ever heard.
Now the original painting by Hugh J. Ward that was reproduced on the cover of that offending publication is on view, along with almost 90 other racy and bloodcurdling confections of similar ilk, in "Pulp Art: The Robert Lesser Collection," an entertaining and fascinating exhibition at the Museum of American Illustration at the Society of Illustrators.
