Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Food Stuff Consumption And Miscellany

Monday, May 21, 2007

1 sausage/cheese/mustard/ketchup on white bread sandwich
sm cup of noodle pasta/tomato sauce/parm cheese
med cup of coffee (light/sweet)
4 sm cups of water
2 carrot cake cupcakes with vanilla frosting
12 cookies (assorted)
2 cups of coffee (light/sweet)
2 cups of black coffee (sweet)
2 cups of black coffee
pkg of 6 crackers with peanut butter (net wt. 1 1/4 oz.)
1/4-1/2 pack of cigarettes

When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are in confederacy against him. Jonathan Swift - "Thoughts On Various Subjects, Moral and Diverting"

He had read in the morning newspaper that a ladies' art guild was having a hanging of its paintings in Pirate's Alley. Imagining that the paintings would be offensive enough to interest him for a while, he pushed his wagon up onto the flagstones of the Alley toward the variety of artwork dangling from the iron pickets of the fence behind the Cathedral. On the prow of the wagon, in an attempt to attract business among the Quarterites, Ignatius taped a sheet of Big Chief paper on which he had printed in crayon: TWELVE INCHES (12") OF PARADISE. So far no one had responded to its message.

The Alley was filled with well-dressed ladies in large hats. Ignatius pointed the prow of the wagon into the throng and pushed forward. A woman read the Big Chief statement and screamed, summoning her companions to draw aside from the ghastly apparition that had appeared at their art show.

"Hot dogs, ladies?" Ignatius asked pleasantly.

The ladies' eyes studied the sign, the earring, the scarf, the cutlass, and pleaded for him to move along. Rain for their hanging would have been bad enough. But this.

"Hot dogs, hot dogs," Ignatius said angrily. "Savories from the hygienic Paradise kitchens."

He belched violently during the silence that followed. The ladies pretended to study the sky and the little garden behind the Cathedral.

Ignatius lumbered over to the picket fence, abandoning the hopeless cause espoused by the wagon, and viewed the oil paintings and pastels and watercolors strung there. Although the style of each varied in crudity, the subjects of the paintings were relatively similar: camellias floating in bowls of water, azaleas tortured into ambitious flower arrangements, magnolias that looked like white windmills. Ignatius scrutinized the offerings furiously for a while all by himself, for the ladies had stepped back from the fence and had formed what looked like a protective little grouping, several feet from the newest member of the art guild.

"Oh, my God!" Ignatius bellowed after he had promenaded up and down along the fence. "How dare you present such abortions to the public."

"Please move along, sir," a bold lady said.

"Magnolias don't look like that," Ignatius said, thrusting his cutlass at the offending pastel magnolia. "You ladies need a course in botany. And perhaps geometry, too."

"You don't have to look at our work," an offended voice said from the group, the voice of the lady who had drawn the magnolia in question.

"Yes, I do!" Ignatius screamed. "You ladies need a critic with some taste and decency. Good Heavens! Which of you did this camellia? Speak up. The water in this bowl looks like motor oil."

"Leave us alone," a shrill voice said.

"I shall." Ignatius grabbed the handle of his cart and pushed off. "You women should all be on your knees begging forgiveness for what I have seen here on this fence."

"The city is certainly going down when that's out on the streets," a woman said as Ignatius waddled off down the Alley.

Ignatius was surprised to feel a small rock bounce off the back of his head.

edited excerpt from: A Confederacy Of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole, Chapter 10, pgs 254-257, published by Grove Weidenfeld- New York

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