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the descent of comedy

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  • louise
    A recollection of dates is highly useful. Kaleidoscope of comparisons. Reading this poem just now led to an associative and vivid memory of David Beckham,
    Message 1 of 2 , Dec 25, 2004
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      A recollection of dates is highly useful. Kaleidoscope of
      comparisons. Reading this poem just now led to an associative and
      vivid memory of David Beckham, performing that familiar duty, to
      take a penalty, arriving at granular sponge disguised as grass and
      missing goal at an acute angle to ground. He turned, and glared at
      sod. Was that the Spaniards??

      alts-heims-er maiden

      --- In existlist@yahoogroups.com, "louise" <hecubatoher@y...> wrote:
      >
      > YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO MOVE YOUR HEAD, NOT YOUR EYES
      >
      > We now live next to the tennis court
      > Yellow green balls seem to be the thing
      > this season. For phrases we get
      > Vicious shot! Or, I *knew
      > you were gonna do that!
      >
      > Last Saturday we watched
      > the finals, inside. Vilas has got
      > an arm like a gorilla, and
      > it appears, it also serves
      > as his main instrument of thought
      > since it returns the ball
      > so often to the same place. ^^
      >
      > Outside, on our court,
      > the less consecutive thocks and thucks
      > labor along on raw audible time
      > dramatized by the brain's impatience
      > with bleak, netted balls.
      >
      > Connor's paranoid study of his strings
      > reminds the nation that tennis
      > is the only game in which the instrument
      > suffers the blame for error. ^^^
      >
      > The chat between the broadcasters
      > is gruesomely tedious. These people
      > walked into an upper middle class sport
      > and they don't know even how to look at it.
      >
      >
      > ^^ A tennis intelligence is subtle up to but not including the
      shot.
      >
      > ^^^ Even the Dentist, that meanest class of sportsman, when he
      > breaks your tooth, doesn't exclaim Shit! as he critically stares
      at
      > his pliers. Footbol, both types, is perhaps least dilated by this
      > instrumental paranoia. The passer does not glare in hatred at the
      > hand which overthrew the pass, nor does the kicker inflict
      > punishment on the foot that missed the goal. The hunter does not
      > throw away the gun that missed the duck, &c.
      >
      >
      > Edward Dorn, 'Selected Poems', Grey Fox Press, 1965, repr. 1978.
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