So back then it was a NYT op-ed style: DO THIS, IDIOT! A dictutorial piece design basically, not to promote thought, but tell you what to do, which is against the stated policy. That real paradigm is why Tom Cotton's piece got the editor fired, is that every piece defines part of the larger organization's personality.
Meanwhile I'm just a housefly on the dodge against the swinging tail of the pack animal.
A fistful of dimes for our hours,
and handful of dust is our retirement trinket.
And in the top of the ninth with a close score, fatigue had the bats slowed down and the flame-thrower had taken the hill.(and his entrance music: Welcome To The Jungle by Guns'n'Roses. It was all head games, man: intimidation. "we know what is coming across the plate, but we can't do much about it.")
Maybe in the final analysis, there was more "welcome" than "jungle", and more "roses" than "guns". But it is so much harder to stop an intruder with only a bouquet of flowers. But sniggers got banned, and there was a food order, then some kind of later food poisoning, where the conscientious writer stank up his rooms because of all the farting, and not caring even to grimace because of the stomach cramps after it had gone on so long, eventually losing its novelty.
No comments:
Post a Comment