Word: knowed
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...know BILL GOLDBERG as the Sandy Koufax of wrestling or the man who enters the ring blowing smoke through his nostrils, but you probably don't think of him as 285 lbs. of pure animal lover. Last week, however, Goldberg traded in his bikini briefs and leather boots for a suit and went to Capitol Hill to protest cockfighting and dogfighting. "I know when I step into the ring, that's my choice," he testified at a congressional briefing, "but these animals, they have no choice." Goldberg says Steve Largent, the Representative from his home state of Oklahoma...
...could be that we invent the fated-lovers theme as a protection against the discovery that we could hitch up with one of a hundred or a thousand others in a lifetime of circumstantial mingling and not know the difference. Worse, that we might not care. Men (pathetic romantics that we are) tend to dream up no fewer than half a dozen one-and-onlies...
...scientist--or the gambler--in us has to admit that there is something in what McDermott says. Falling in love can seem fairly random, involving routines that could be applied to anyone: stares, smiles, witty remarks, revealing remarks, endearing remarks, hands touch, lips touch. We know the drill. Bow to your partner, curtsy to your corner. Suddenly your corner becomes your partner. Are the stars out tonight? I only have eyes...
...McDermott is right, and you and I represent the commingling of just one of the so many millions with just one more. Who cares? If we have commingled by the dumbest luck, I'll take it. Anyway, how does anyone know that luck isn't another name for fate, that the arbitrary isn't inevitable, and that the appearance of chance and happenstance aren't simply heaven's way of amusing itself? As far as I'm concerned, babe, "I'm content./ The angels must have sent you,/and they meant you just...
...what a life De Vere led, an existence more Shakespearean than Shakespeare's! Of the man from Stratford we have only a sheaf of facts slimmer than a Gospel redacted by atheists. He is a man about whom it is impossible to write the literary biography as we know it today--kiss, tell, stab in the back, keep the codpiece, and don't dry-clean the doublet. And thus De Vere tantalizes. He may not have been the Bard, but--with apologies to whomever--was his life the stuff of which Shakespeare's dreams were made...