Word: fowls
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...political Shaw bombinates in the wings: "Socialism without compulsory labor and ruthless penalization of idleness and exploitation is nothing but a hopeless confusion of Socialism with Liberalism." And the vegetarian is never far away: "I do not eat flesh, fish or fowl . . . You can be Sancho Panza on any food provided there is enough of it. If you want to be Pythagoras, you have to be more careful...
This work seems to suffer acutely from a problem of genre: is it a play? is it an opera? Billed as a "musical tale," it seems neither fish no, fowl nor the best of both worlds. The music, written and performed by Philip Lasser, is elusive and singularly inappropriate in nature; it runs on incessantly, ubiquitously beneath the speech, providing less of a meaningful subtext than a distraction or, at worst, an embarrassment, as the unfortunate singers actors explode into snatches of unsingable, off-key melody. This post-Wagnerian syndrome is if anything aggravated by the nature of the text...
...more time: the story is told that a Cajun was brought to trial for slaughtering 100 egrets, the snow-white fowl that are protected under Louisiana law. The judge, dumb struck by the senselessness of it all, demanded, "What did you do with them...
...then drifted into other occupations, including the junk business, and in 1972 he found his calling with the gas station and fruit stand. They are situated about 17 miles southwest of Mobile on a two-lane blacktop bleached by the sun to fish-belly white, in a community called Fowl River. After the accident in 1975 gave him a limpy leg, his physician told him to assign his hurt limb to as few chores as possible. So Laura Roach took over the fruit stand, as well as a barbecue pit in summer, and Eugene Roach bolted to the wall nearest...
Down the nation's East shore, down the Mississippi River, mornings in November are punctuated with the laughter-like calls of migratory fowl and the sharp reports of shotguns. While some people loathe the practice, hunters romance it, just as Hemingway did in that pretty passage. After all, even the argot of the sport is poetry: when a bird sets its wings to come in to feed, it is "whiffing," defined by Webster as moving "with or as if with a puff of air." The hunters themselves have a more evocative term-they call it "maple leafing," a lovely...