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Exactly what the term "wonk" signifies, of course varies with who uses the word; it can denote anything from all those who got a better grade on the last hour exam than the speaker to a bonafide anal compulsive bookworm. Generally speaking, the term applies to a sort of drab toiler of limited cosmic vision, whose main concern in life is his academic grade average...
Some of the new books are solid, sober summations of the latest thoughts and theories on everything from anal eroticism to zygotes; others are hardly more than collections of sleazy case histories. The writing ranges from racy colloquialism to surgical asepsis. But either way, sex is being written about more-and more specifically-in the U.S. today than in any other part of the world...
...years. From neither of them did I get any impression that Milk Train had a religious content of any marked importance, certainly none in a Christian vein. A psychoanalyst has given me a complete explanation, in Freudian terms, of the play's dramatizing the oral v. the anal; a philosophic friend told me Williams has examined "existence" and "nothingness" in terms of "knowing" as opposed to "understanding"; one poet I know sees "the Angel of Death" as a purely Rilkean angel ("a peaceful presence"), and the witch of Capri as a true witch, and the whole play...
Overwhelmed, as I am, by the Protestant ethic and its dour and anal tenets, I felt impaled on an Anglo-Catholic wheel of fire from the moment the titles appeared. The letters (designed by Saul Bass) were all formed from phallic components, decorated with blue vegetable coloring and topped with maraschino cherries. In the background one could make out M. Quouquou and Sr. Picasso rais-Yul Brynner on a flaming cross...
...camera, itself carried by an exquisitely intelligent (and spiritually inclined) wild ass (representing the fifth of the deadly sins, anal retention), sways rhythmically up and down, generating a subtle, but unmistakable aura of coitus. Jockeying back and forth into view were Jacques Tati and Mme. de Gaulle playing mudgutter across the north transept of Chartres Cathedral. At the end of each round, the loser had to run nude through the south portal and roll in the snow before a crowd of lepers. With that lovely timing for which he is worshipped, Quouguou waits until the lepers have drawn very close...