Tuesday, January 27, 2009

R.I.P.

Like a feather caught in a vortex, Williams ran around the square of bases at the center of our beseeching screaming. He ran as he always ran out home runs--hurriedly, unsmiling, head down, as if our praise were a storm of rain to get out of. He didn't tip his cap. Though we thumped, wept, and chanted "We want Ted" for minutes after he hid in the dugout, he did not come back. Our noise for some seconds passed beyond excitement into a kind of immense open anguish, a wailing, a cry to be saved. But immortality is nontransferable. The papers said that the other players, and even the umpires on the field, begged him to come out and acknowledge us in some way, but he never had and did not now. Gods do not answer letters.

-- from Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu

Going down with all her lights blazing the great ship America.

-- from Rabbit is Rich

Rest in peace, John Updike.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Waterboarding is Torture

Damn straight, Mr. Holder.