Word: lampooner
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...after writing a magazine article condemning the modern generation for avoiding conflicts, he was picketed by outraged Radcliffe girls. They paraded vainly for several hours in front of his house only to find out that he was out of town. And last year, he unconsciously out finessed the Lampoon in the last lecture of English 170 in Sanders Theatre. As he turned to leave the platform, two punsters, clothed in black capes, threw out a smoking balloon-bomb which missed him and only managed to smoke out I. A. Richards, the next lecturer. Today, although well acclimated to Cambridge, Jones...
Somewhat less stimulating was a job he had in his first year. For twenty-five cents an hour, Demos cleaned out the Lampoon building early every morning. "It was always a terrible mess, beer bottles and cigarette butts." But smiling, he then added, "You might say, though, that the Lampoon financed my way through graduate schools." One might not say, however, that the Lampoon was also responsible for his becoming a Phi Beta Kappa...
...former Ibis of the Lampoon, Charles Bracelen Flood '51 began his novel in Professor MacLeish's course, writing about the world he knows best--an exclusive milieu of Oyster Bay, Marlborough Street, Northeast Harbor. Mr. Flood is too much a product of this world to be rewarding to critics intent on the game of pinning the tale on other authors. Except for a brief glimpse of the Tycoon in his Wall Street lair, there is no trace of Fitzgerald's awe in the book's pictures of the twenties. Nor does Mr. Flood have any of Marquand Sr.'s quiet...
Other second-hand ideas which appear in this issue include the foibles of television and 3-D movies, the "in 25 words or less" contest, the detective story, the mysterious mixup, and the shock ending in which someone suddenly discovers that an imaginary situation has become real. Indeed, the Lampoon is present testimony to the theory that all the stories ever written have been derived from a set of 35 basic plots...
...especially in comparison with the rest of the issue. Updike's versification and phraseology are light and refreshing: "Milady I like your diminutive lips. . . .I like your wee fingers and miniscule hips. . . ." Unfortunately his style here only accentuates the paucity of wit in his other contributions. Updike is the Lampoon's only real talent. Too bad they have quenched his fire, or burned it out. Or maybe this was just a bad month...