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You’ll Always Be A Part of Me

“Always Something There to Remind Me” by Naked Eyes from the album Burning Bridges Fifth Week of December, 1982 Something that I didn’t know (until about a year ago): The song was written by Burt Bacharach in the 1960s and…

Ordering Fast Food in the Age of the Statistically Challenged

by Murray Brozinsky

Hale and Hearty

Polish Fact

The 16 Voivodships (województwa)
Greater Poland Voivodship (Wielkopolskie),
Kuyavian-Pomeranian Voivodship (Kujawsko-Pomorskie),
Lesser Poland Voivodship (Ma³opolskie),
Lodz Voivodship (£ódzkie),
Lower Silesian Voivodship (Dolnoœl¹skie),
Lublin Voivodship (Lubelskie),
Lubusz Voivodship (Lubuskie),
Masovian Voivodship (Mazowieckie),
Opole Voivodship (Opolskie),
Subcarpathian Voivodship (Podkarpackie),
Podlasie Voivodship (Podlaskie),
Pomeranian Voivodship (Pomorskie),
Swietokrzyskie Voivodship (Œwiêtokrzyskie),
Silesian Voivodship (Œl¹skie),
Warmian-Masurian Voivodship (Warmiñsko-Mazurskie),
West Pomeranian Voivodship (Zachodniopomorskie)

Learn a Foreign Tongue!

Habla Español!
Los talentos de Andy Richter se pierden totalmente en "Quintuplets."
Andy Richter's talents are completely wasted on "Quintuplets."

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Literary Timberdoodle
Thursday, March 23, 2006   |    Fiction

David Mamet Channels Aristophanes

by Dale Dobson

An Old Woman picks berries from a small bush. Enter The Traveler.

The Traveler: Many miles have I traveled, uh, until now, now I am not sure of where I am! Pray, tell me, woman old, uh, where the hell am I?

Old Woman: You are where you stand, sir.

The Traveler: But, uh, where is it I stand?

Old Woman: You stand where you are, I do believe.

The Traveler: No, I mean, what place is this?

Old Woman: This is the place where we stand.

The Traveler: Christ! You’re not listenin’ to me! Look, look, just tell me, tell me this—does this place have a name?

Old Woman: Indeed it does, sir. Chicago!

The Traveler: Well, that fuckin’ took long enough.

The Old Woman flings berries at him and sings:

Old Woman:
Impatient tongue ye have, and plethora of gall;
But still we welcome kindly every living soul
Who comes and seeks to roost among our buildings tall.
Now I must gather up my things. You shut your hole.

She takes her basket and leaves. Enter a Politician, jogging.

The Traveler: What a strange creature this is!

The Politician: Tut, tut! Clear out the way, for I must pass!

The Traveler: Then pass; I do not here, uh, hinder thee.

The Politician: To squeeze? To shuffle sideways past? To work around your most imprudent bulk? Fie on you, sir! For I must have the clearest path, all to myself, to carry out my public duties!

The Traveler: What manner of, of man are you, then?

The Politician: I am a politician, graced with renown of friend, respect of foe, and perks and priv’leges a-plenty. Bulls, bears and cubs, e’en blackhawks, fire, and bandits; all clear the way before my stockings white.

The Traveler: And how come you by this work?

The Politician: How’s come? How’s come? Look, buddy, I got work to do. Political work, see? Important stuff to do. Now move your ass!

The Traveler: One question, er, one question more. What business brings you out this way?

The Politician: To put in an appearance, grasp a happy hand, and speak upon the good that I have done, though it be never manifest. The great Machine requires such, and will not sleep, nor let me rest.

The Traveler: Ah, I see! You run all over the fuckin’ place, an’ don’t get shit done!

The Politician: Ahhh, fuck you! Ya motherfucker!

The Politician picks up a baseball bat and crushes The Traveler’s skull.

The Politician: Cocksucker.


Dale Dobson writes, animates, and acts in the metropolitan Detroit area, and occasionally gets around to updating