Word: ole
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Paul Gray, who wrote the analysis of Southern fiction in Books, has admired William Faulkner "since I was young enough to have a hero." He remembers, from the days when he was an undergraduate at Ole Miss, watching the man he calls "the genius of the South" walking through Oxford, undisturbed by students or townspeople...
...with hundreds of Ford signs under their seats. Nancy arrived across the hall just before the 16c battle was joined. As she seemed to be gaining decibels in the audio clash, the band broke into TV Star Tony Orlando's hit song Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree. Betty turned to Orlando, who was visiting the Ford family's VIP gallery, and the two danced breezily in the aisle for a few moments. The crowd went wild. Nancy purportedly was spared the sight of her rival's triumph. "I'm nearsighted," she explained...
...course, Carter (Cot-tuh? Car-tuh?) simply does not use the "good ole boy" phraseology; his speech is far too aristocratic for that. Even in casual conversation, he is not likely to fall into what linguists call the double modal-"might could" or "might ought." Nor can he be expected to employ another familiar Deep South form, the perfective done, as in "he done did it." Between now and November, moreover, his audiences are not apt to hear him describe his opponent, as some Plains folk might, as "a sorry piece of plunder" or threaten to "knock the bark...
Carter's family mingled with the crowd. His eight-year-old daughter Amy, who runs a 100-a-glass lemonade stand on the side, raced around barefoot and carefree. Brother Billy, a Georgia "good ole boy" who runs the family warehouse and a local service station, bantered with the press about the words Cast Iron emblazoned on the T shirt that stretched over his developing paunch. Explained Billy: "It's my CB radio handle. Everybody calls me that because when the fellas come by my place, I'll drink whatever they're drinking -Scotch, bourbon...
...when a vengeful Nicholson has Brando at his mercy in a bathtub and lets him go. But far from satisfying the audience, it leaves it wishing for more. McGuane's is an essentially adolescent sensibility, tough-talking but sentimental about how nasty death keeps intruding on his good ole boys. In the circumstances, one comes to admire Brando even more. Apparently, he was the only major participant in the project to see that it was a load of nonsense and that the only honorable course was to send it up. His efforts along that line - bless his heart...