not exactly pretty, not exactly angry, just pretty angry

    Knock it off, Cec. I'm feeling as flusteredly, delightedly,
    peachy-pink flattered as Maureen when Duke Wayne
    told her: 'Yer magnificent in yer rorth....'

    But my rorth sure can't hold a candle to Jim's. What on earth
    has come over the Preacher Man? Did something happen
    recently? Some change in circumstances? Time was when
    all went merry as a wedding bell in a veritable riot of genial nudges
    & happy smileys. Now all we're handed are admonitions
    to get serious, use our brains, stop being irresponsible.

    Dammit, the drunk in the midnight choir is an essential element
    in any decent list & he didn't exist it would be necessary for
    someone - me, preferably - to invent him. I personally think
    John does a splendid job. Those slurred jabs land with the uncanny
    precision of so many former pugilists tanked up on spiced egg-nog.
    (A rather prissy tipple, I'd have thought, for a serious drinker.)

    And one can hardly fault Levi in his handling of The Earnest Scholar.
    Those narrow, bespectacled eyes, the screaming, jangled nerves,
    the worthy reading list, the final appeals to reason, those handy but
    judicious, pocket judgements.... Perfect.

    Scottie B.

-
* Unsubscribing? Mail majordomo@roughdraft.org with the message
* UNSUBSCRIBE BANANAFISH
Received on Mon Dec 9 03:46:08 2002