Word: paragrapher
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...very fine, if one didn't also have to read the damn thing. For when epics grow out of the Oral Stage, they lose something of their amiability. Bored has a distressing habit of repeating again and again the perverse patterns on which its humor depends. Every paragraph is sure to mention at least one refugee from a Medieval Bestiary, along with two unrelated brand names...
...this insidious Real Author? you are perhaps driven to ask. Well, enough of such suspense! From the very first paragraph ("Do you like what you both see...? said the voluptuous elf-maiden as she provocatively parted the folds of her robe to reveal the rounded, shadowy glories within."), the Real Author is easily identifiable as none other than the odious Terry Southern. So you see why I had to mention the unfortunate proliferation of parody. Not even the Poon is safe from such unexpected reversals of reality, because this man Southern has done them one better. It should there-fore...
...issue. I found your typographical errors surprising and even incredible. Not only did you misprint several words but you changed them so much as to destroy the meaning of the sentences. Nor did you stop there, or rather you stopped all too soon: you left out my entire concluding paragraph. (But you managed to print an ad for "in its place: clearly you are more commercial than radical...
Although my last paragraph is probably forever lost, let me at least give the right words for your major misprints. In the third paragraph, I said "but to many men like myself, one answer is clear." In the fifth paragraph I said "Only this combination will have the skill and the strength to outlast the repressions and resources of corporate America." The third paragraph of the second column should have read. "But the proportion of radicals to conventionals will be far smaller in any other durable institution." In the third paragraph from the (or rather your) conclusion, I said...
...Kennedy is that rarity among diarists, a writer of first-rate prose. As a journal of his two years and three months as U.S. Ambassador to India (April 1961-July 1963), the volume is inevitably filled with history's largely forgotten and largely forgettable moments. But scarcely a paragraph is unredeemed by a flash of wit or a quietly neo-Machiavellian observation...