fry

Biercuk said there is no realistic way to jam quantum magnetometers or gravimeters from a distance, short of an energy pulse that would fry all the electronics on a plane and cause it to crash.

No french fries this time, but he’s trying to kill the joint-employer rule.

Of course, the Nevada Six and other phony electors are but small fry.

He’s holding a bowl of what looks like fried, golden-brown balls of goodness.

He had artfully arranged the plates to resemble Mama Woof, with fried eggs for her yellow wolf eyes, crisp bacon strips for whiskers, and two halves of buttered brown toast for her alert, upright ears.