
Nolde, Women and a Pierrot
Devoted to media matters, politics, poetry, creativity, the evolution of consciousness, and autobiographical reflections, "The Laverytory" is the blog of David Lavery, literature, film, and television scholar/critic, now teaching at Middle Tennessee State University.



2011 saw the publication of three new books: TV Goes to Hell: An Unofficial Road Map of Supernatural (ECW Press), co-edited with Stacey Abbott; The Essential Sopranos Reader (UP of Kentucky); Joss Whedon: Conversations (U P of Mississippi), co-edited with Cynthia Burkhead.
TWAS THE MONTH BEFORE IOWA:
[Original by Clement Moore, Updated version by Mauiboy 2011]
Twas the month before Iowa and all through the land
Not a creature was stirring not even Ayn Rand.
The candidates were crisscrossing the state with flair
In hopes the state’s caucuses would cast their names there.
The farmers were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of ethanol subsidies danced in their heads.
Mama’s got her snuff and I with my booze, lest
we settled down for one more GOP snooze-fest.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appears,
But a withering debate and six tiny right-wingers.
And the head of the group, so angry and so lewd.
I knew in a moment it must be St. Newt.
More vapid than rabid dogs, his colleagues they came
He berated and belittled them as he called them by name.
Now Romney, Now Bachmann Now Huntsman and Paul
On Santorum, On Perry On Trump and on all.
To the top of the heap, to the top of the polls
Dash away dash away dash away all.
He spoke not a word and went straight to work
Disavowing his old record and acting the jerk.
And laying a finger to the rest of the pack
“I’m not a politician” he claimed
Fingers crossed behind his back.
He turned to the others to lecture them all
Romney, he said would take a big fall
.
Bachmann inauthentic, Perry a twit
Paul and Santorum, not worthy of spit.
Then he saved the media for the last
Fire in his eyes, he let out a huge blast.
Through spittle, and sweat and part of his meal
He lambasted, he derided, he cajoled, he reeled.
“They coddle the poor, they enable the elite,
They play gotcha with the wealthy and they belittle the effete.”
With that he stood up and peered out at the crowd
He left the others behind as he grumbled and growled.
He puffed out his chest and he said with some glee
“I am Newt Gingrich, I WILL be the nominee!”


In abandonment of the state of Israel, the West reverts to pagan sacrifice, once again, making a burnt offering not of that which one possesses, but of that which is another’s. As Realpolitik, the Liberal West’s anti-Semitism can be understood as like Chamberlain’s offering of Czechoslovakia to Hitler, a sop thrown to terrorism. On the level of conscience, it is a renewal of the debate on human sacrifice. - David Mamet, WSJ
The Doctor: Can I trust you River Song?
River Song: Yeah, but where's the fun in that?
Amy Pond: You laughed!
The Doctor: No! That was just a snort, of fondness.
The Doctor: That's the problem. You make all of space and time your backyard, and that's what you have: a backyard.
Amy Pond: You're worse than my aunt.
The Doctor: I am the Doctor. I am worse than everybody's aunt.
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