Monday, November 05, 2007

B-Dubya...Down for the Count

My boy Beowulf just died. I'm thisclose to tears. Thisclose.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. You've got to man up, Raymond. I mean, who cries at Beowulf? He lead a violent life; died a glorious death. They launched his funeral pyre on a high cliff above the ocean. Ten days later, they covered the thing with earth, burying within a bunch of stuff the likes of which you just don't see in Park Slope. For years to come his people will refer to the man-made hill as Beowulf's Barrow. How bad can that be? I mean, given the context and all.
I also always cry at the end of "Meet Joe Black."
Well really, who doesn't?
I hear you.
Would you feel better if I called you Seamus?
A little, I guess.


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