Shakespeare Electronic Conference, Vol. 4, No. 942.  Wednesday, 15 Dec. 1993.
From:           Timothy Bowden <This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.>
Date:           Tuesday, 14 Dec 93 11:00:01 PST
Subject:        `Drown the cargoed apples in their tides.'
A humorous interlude in Gertrude Stein's _Making Of Americans_ involves
a son pulling his father by the heels through an orchard, the elder
crying `Stop! I never dragged my own father past that tree!'
It is the duty of youth forever to break the paternal shell.  The line
runs from Descartes through Deridda and reads something like:  Oho, if
the evidence for reality be but the belated record as reflected by
blighted beings, it cannot be held accountable to clinical tests of
existance!  Therefore anywhere is everywhen!
And all the `curdlers in their folly' did re-Joyce, proclaiming, this
means I don't have to read Beowulf!  And, behold, art became the
dropping of a large safe from a great height, and theatre was a shopping
list of dotty outrageous non-sequiturs, and literature evolved into a
seance for sophomore and triperwriter.
For if text is but an accretion of elements on a page, then I as the
receiving agent am fully entitled to shape this random residue into such
snowmen as my imagination dictates, and your resistance to my taking up
bandwidth better devoted to the Bard I might freely identify as an
elitist classicist cult conspiracy oppressing my expression!
I am so gratified by postmodernism, and so amused when the learned
professors through folly or patronage make show of solemn effort to
comprehend the workings of this traditionally adolescent radical
philosophy of the utterly meaningless.
This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. (Timothy Bowden)
Clovis in Felton, CA

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