Today's Topics:
Brilliant Outlook
momma bee
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Fri, 05 Oct 90 09:08:39 EDT
From: "The Rt. Rev. Wor. Dr. Y. Foo" <dryfoo@athena.mit.edu>
Subject: Brilliant Outlook
To: subgenius@media-lab.media.mit.edu
I'm going away for a few weeks. Here's something to chew on for awhile.
I dedicate this to Rev. Glasser (for all his wonderfully dopey poems)
and Rev. Penn, the only other person I know (besides me) who's mutant
enough to recite the source for this one in public.
-- dr foo
Dissocated Casey
The outlook wasn't brilliant of all,
And Blake,
And the forment of Casey's eye,
a sneer is gone from Casey's getting to two with dirt,
For there seemed but little children shout,
and the plate;
And now the ball,
and now his face grow with Casey at the outlook wasn't bright,
The band is gone from Casey's blow.
The sneer is gone from Casey and the air;
And now the wonderment of all,
and now he ball,
"Strike one," the umpire said.
There wasn't brill him! Kill the human breast; The audience was struck
outed some on Charity great Casey.
"Stranger was a lulu and somewhere in the patrons of the outlook wasn't
my style," said Casey.
"Strike one," there;
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped -- "That and
Burroughs did the same,
A smile on Casey could but get a whack with people, to the benches,
And the former was a sickly silence fell upon the human the ball
unheers,
he lightly doffed his hand.
With a smilence fell upon the ball into his his plate;
And when when Cooney died at upon the plate;
And now that Casey would but get a whack at that -- We'd put up even
money now stern and cooney died a smile on Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhen the dust had not Casey raised his hand.
With but one inning bright,
The band is plate;
And the former was a cake; So upon that ain't my style," said Casey
could but get a whack at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were one inning bright,
The bade the game one on the pitcher,
and only Casey,
was advancing to the bat.
But Casey still ignored it,
and the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey,
as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the flat,
For Casey,
mighty Casey,
was advancing to the bat.
But Flew,
But Casey still him! Killed him had not Casey raised,
tore them on his hand.
With a smile on Casey raised his place,
There was Casey at the bade the men saw his face
grounds with cruel violence his ball go by again.
There was ease in this favored land the rising tumultitude game.
A straggling few got up even money now the leathere seemed but little
chance outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day,
The scornful look from the benches,
black with people,
there were on him as Jimmy safe at seconderment of all,
and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered to the cheers,
he lightly doffed his hat, Force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhen respondermen are laughing,
and some one on this favored in the dell;
And when are laughing pitcher ground the outlook was Jimmy said.
