Word: mon
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...books, exclaimed one French critic, "possess all the passionate excess of Rabelais' Gargantua, the verbal virtuosity of a Joyce, the demonic cruelty of Celine's best work." Mon dieu, who is this born-again Shakespeare? Charles Bukowski. You know, the 64-year-old Los Angeles-based laureate of American lowlife whose Henry Miller-ish paeans to booze and broads (Love Is a Dog for Hell, Notes of a Dirty Old Man) typically sell only around 5,000 copies in the U.S. In France, more than 100,000 copies of the Boho's short and tall stories have left the shelves...
...food is standard ballpark fare: hotdogs, popcorn, Coca-Cola and, especially, beer. The beer in Sarasota may be no better than beer anywhere else, but it is served in a unique fashion--by an operatic vendor. "Be the first to quench your thirst!" sings the salesman. "C'mon, you can strike out," he serenades the Red Sox. No one can recall the last singing vendor at Fenway...
...twelve, I knew. By twelve he had command. Almost nobody could catch his fastball either: he broke one guy's hand, another guy's wrist." Without irony, Gooden's playmates took to calling him Doctor. Dan Gooden believes his son's nickname came from an infielder's chatter: "C'mon, Dr. Dwight, operate on him!" Youmans says, "It was just always Dr. D, or Doc." It evolved naturally into Dr. K, the initial taken from the scorebook shorthand for a strikeout...
...guest stars. Singer Charles Aznavour cut a ribbon to mark the occasion, and Rudolf Nureyev, Sting and ABC Newsman Peter Jennings were among the celebrities who sent greetings from abroad. Then it was on to regular programming: an onslaught of game shows, movies and weekly series, interrupted regularly by -- mon Dieu! -- commercials...
...cooking for his father, his brother and himself. Even pastries. I had never noticed that he was in the kitchen often, or that he watched or asked me questions and I never tried to teach him. But suddenly, he simply began to cook . . . Il est encore mon petit garcon...