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HURRICANE JIMMY TASTES SWEETNESS
It hasn’t been a good year for James Wolcott, with no hurricanes to celebrate. But the midterm elections have turned his frown upside down:
As a lifelong misanthrope and fatalist, it’s hard for me to take this buffeting of good news. It’s almost more than my Eeyore ears can bear! Every thing tastes sweeter today. Even the rain seems rainier, as if the sky was weeping with joy and relief.
Wolcott last suffered weather-related hallucinations in 2004, when the stoatish Manhattan hate-muppet became delusional after watching a Presidential debate:
This morning as I walked to the general store to pick up the papers, there were birds everywhere aflutter. Bluejays. Cardinals. Mourning doves. Sparrows of every persuasion. A peregrine falcon or merlin (I didn’t get my binocs up fast enough) winging overhead. Later, at Sunset Beach, a quartet of pelicans floated over like a band heading to a gig. Some would attribute this to a shift in wind direction or a change in temp, but I know different.
Nature is celebrating last night’s presidential debate.
The trees are alive with the sound of Kerry.
UPDATE. Paco: “Wolcott’s prose always has a sort of ‘je ne say what?’ about it, as we say in North Carolina; there’s a sort of slippery, oozey quality to it, like a snail trail or cod liver oil, something vaguely repugnant in its commandeering of the elements and of innocent wildlife to create a pastoral mood celebrating mere vulgar politics (or worse, a mere vulgar politician). Third-rate stuff, entirely. If he has produced even one line for the ages, I will stitch it in petit point on a pillow and send it to him.”
Actually, in 2002 Wolcott did write something worthwhile; he mentioned “the acerbic and hilarious Tim Blair”. That was before BDS kicked in.
That’s a strange coincidence, in Spring 2004 a bird dropped a Kerry on my jacket. The drycleaning got it out okay, though.
Posted by andycanuck on 2006 11 09 at 02:44 PM • permalinkI want what Wolcott’s smoking.
On second thought, I outgrew my adolescence long ago, so maybe Wolcott should give up what he’s been smoking.
And for the geography-challenged, Sunset Beach is on Shelter Island (hoity-toity), which is in the bay between the two forks of Long Island’s East End. (He said breathlessly!)
So he went to the shop dressed in Lederhosen?
Not a good image at all coming through - I much prefer the Presbyterians. OMG - lumberjack was right - that girl is like magic, one look and you can spell the word!
I wonder what would happen if you saw her in real life - scchhwwiiinnggg - instant convert. Those sort of things should be outlawed, banned I tells ya!!Wolcott’s prose always has a sort of “je ne say what?” about it, as we say in North Carolina; there’s a sort of slippery, oozey quality to it, like a snail trail or cod liver oil, something vaguely repugnant in its commandeering of the elements and of innocent wildlife to create a pastoral mood celebrating mere vulgar politics (or worse, a mere vulgar politician). Third-rate stuff, entirely. If he has produced even one line for the ages, I will stitch it in petit point on a pillow and send it to him.
Well, it’s not the first time Kerry has been mistaken for a talking tree.
Posted by Jim Treacher on 2006 11 09 at 03:34 PM • permalinkThe trees are alive with the sound of Kerry.
Here, I believe Wolcott makes an error common to many amateur ornithologists. He seems to be confusing Kerry with the yellow-billed cuckoo (Coccyzus americanus), or with something from the goatsucker family, perhaps the chuck-wills-widow (Caprimulgus carolinensis).
Maybe he wants to paint his wagon, red with blood blue with Dems?
I talk to the trees
But they don’t listen to me
I talk to the stars
But they never hear meThe breeze hasn’t time
To stop, and hear what I say
I talk to them all
In vainPosted by andycanuck on 2006 11 09 at 03:37 PM • permalinkSorry, that should have been
red with blood. (A Simpsons reference.)Posted by andycanuck on 2006 11 09 at 03:39 PM • permalink#15 Google “a dark and stormy night” and I think you’ll get the name of the bad writing “award”.
Posted by andycanuck on 2006 11 09 at 04:33 PM • permalink#15, it’s the Bulwer-Lytton contest, named for the guy who gave us the original ``It was a dark and stormy night.’’ And you can only submit stuff that hasn’t been published previously, so you can’t swipe from Wolcott - though a parody of his style would probably do nicely.
Posted by Sonetka's Mom on 2006 11 09 at 04:33 PM • permalink“my Eeyore ears”
The first step to recovery is admitting that you’re a jackass.
There is hope for Wolcott.
Posted by Dave Surls on 2006 11 09 at 05:40 PM • permalinkThose aren’t ‘birds in the trees’.
They’re ‘bats in the bellfrey’.
Posted by Apparatchik on 2006 11 09 at 07:03 PM • permalinkSparrows of every persuasion.
Homosezxual? Nymphomaniac? Presbytarian?
The one remarkable thing about the sparrow is its utterly uniform dullness. It is perhaps, as you say in your vernacular, a metaphor ! ... of what I am not sure. His writing style perhaps is a little bird-brained.
Posted by Wimpy Canadian on 2006 11 09 at 09:16 PM • permalinkAs a lifelong misanthrope and fatalist
He’s a fucking liar. No true misanthrope would have anything to do with the Democrats; the very name of the party conjures up images of baying mobs, or at least those interfering busybodies who call themselves “people persons.” As for “fatalist”—since when have the tantrum-throwing babies on the left ever accepted fate?
Misanthropy—at least the cold, disciplined type that doesn’t trust humanity in bulk and very little of its individual members—as well as a somewhat fatalistic view of human nature, are inherently conservative attitudes. The fact that even our so-called “conservative” party is barely distinguishable from the squishy gladhanders to the left of them is the disease of our age. Most people don’t have the nerve to be truly misanthropic; I suspect that what Wolcott really is is simply an unpleasant fusspot.
Posted by Andrea Harris, Administrator on 2006 11 09 at 10:15 PM • permalink#32, Paco,
Thanks for the link. It is astonishing how little Europe understands Americans.
RebeccaH, I have the required fishy guts you may require. Lots left over from feeding the lobsters. Let’s get this project rolling! And Paco, I don’t think we ought to wait for Wolcott to write something cogent. Why not just give him his just reward now?
#33 Andrea Harris,
I suspect that what Wolcott really is is simply an unpleasant fusspot.
Suspect?
Posted by Spiny Norman on 2006 11 10 at 02:47 AM • permalink
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