Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam.....

Tennyson's description of the wind in Morte d'Arthur:

And in the moon athwart the place of tombs,
Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men,
Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down
By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock,
Came on the shining levels of the lake.

would also describe some of the invective from the anti Catholic, pro-abortion, or pro-homosexualist coteries, slavering with hate like rabid chihuahas.

Just a thought.