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Transcript of Tone Review
The clerk, swathed in a long-sleeved woolen dress which made her look for the world like Teddy Snowcrop, was aghast, “Surely, you are putting me on,” she said. “A bathing suit! In August!”
“That’s right,” I said firmly,” and I am not leaving this store until you show me one.”
She shrugged helplessly. “But surely you are aware of the fact that we haven’t had a bathing suit in stock since the first of June. Our – no offense – White Elephant sale was June third and we unload – rather, disposed of all of out suits at that time.”
-Erma Bombeck, At Wit’s End It’s his first exposure to Third World passion. He thought only Americans had informed political opinion – other people staged coups out of spite and misery. It’s an unwelcome revelation to him that a reasonably educated and rational man like Ito would die for things that he, Brent, has never heard of and would rather laugh about. Ro was tortured in jail. Franny was taken off her earphones. Electrodes, canes, freezing tanks. He leaves nothing out.
Dad looks sick. The meaning of Thanksgiving should not be so explicit.
- Bharati Mukherjee, “Orbiting” Microphone feedback kept blaring out the speaker’s words, but I got the outline. Withdrawal of our troops from Vietnam. Recognition of Cuba. Immediate commutation of student loans. Until all of these demands were men, the speaker said he considered himself in a state of unconditional war with the United States government.I laughed out loud.
-Tobias Wolff, “Civilian” I perceived, as I read, how the collective white man had been actually nothing but a piratical opportunist who used Faustian machinations to make his own Christianity his initial wedge in criminal conquest. First, always “religiously,” he branded “heathen” and “pagan” labels upon ancient non-white cultures and civilizations. The stage thus set, he then turned upon his non-white victims his weapons of war.
-Malcolm X, The Autobiography
of Malcolm X I can’t forget
How she stood at the top of that long marble stair
Amazed, and then with a sleepy pirouette
Went dancing slowly down to the fountain-quieted square;
Nothing upon her face
But some impersonal loneliness, - not then a girl,
But as it were a reverie of the place,
A called-for falling glide and whirl;
As when a leaf, petal, or thin chip
Is drawn to the falls of a pool and, circling a moment above it,
Rides on over the lip –
Perfectly beautiful, perfectly ignorant of it.
Richard Wilber, “Piazza Di Spagna, Early Morning” The dry brown coughing beneath their feet,
(Only a while, for the handyman is on his way)
These people walk their golden gardens.
We say ourselves fortunate to be driving by today.
That we may look at them, in their gardens where
The summer ripeness rots. But not raggedly.
Even the leaves fall down in lovelier patterns here.
And the refuse, the refuse is a neat brilliancy.
- Gwendolyn Brooks, “Beverly Hills, Chicago” And I started to play. Is was so beautiful. I was so caught up in how lovely I looked that at first I didn’t worry how I sounded. So it a surprise to me when I hit the first wrong note and I realized something didn’t sound quite right. And then I hit another and another followed that. A chill started at the tip of my head and began to trickle down. Yet I couldn’t stop playing, as though my hands were bewitched. I kept thinking my fingers would adjust themselves back, like a train switching to the right track. I played this strange jungle through two repeats, the sour notes staying with me all the way to the end.
- Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club THE END!!
You Have defeated the Minotone!