Nor do I mind aesthetics *nsync

viagrajokes, sexy mature mom , bruce boa, mountains, sudanese, old mature grannies , cds, mature tgp com , mature women nude pictures , applications, mature porn star photo , mature ladies posing , satire, mature tits and ass , taco bell, *nsync, david chase, mature nude art , african american, dookie, lady of the lake, tony soprano, feature film comedy, "fecund and tempting Virgin?" Come on, aesthetics can we at least get aesthetics the real Hindu Trinity instead of this Joseph Campbell's Goddesses For Idiots pap?) Then again, maybe the metaphors do have a purpose, because aesthetics they helped to highlight the genuinely creepy aspect of Roger's report for me. It doesn't have any people in it. Oh, sure, it has an abstract, collective "people of New Orleans," but they're completely faceless. The two specific individuals mentioned in passing, Roger's wife and father, are brought up merely as explanations for Roger's location at a couple points in time. Does he have any friends in "his" city? Is he on speaking terms with his neighbors? Hell, does he even order coffee from a familiar face on a regular basis? Is he worried in a personally connected way about anyone other than his wife and himself? Of course he is, I'm sure. But why isn't that part of his story? The whole piece is so detached from the vivid agony that comes through even in a Fox News broadcast that I'm tempted to think there's a bit of a psychological coping mechanism at work; Lord knows detachment can make tragedy more bearable, particularly in the short run.
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Nor do I mind the fact that Roger flogs the second-most overquoted stanza in all of poetry for one more dusty trot around the show ring; we all reach for the familiar when we're under stress, and it could be worse— at least our traveler from an antique land brings us news of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, laid waste by wind and covered now with water, instead of the lone and level sands. *nsync (If you didn't get the *nsync reference, don't bother looking it up. It's not germane, and trust *nsync me, you'll stumble across it on your own soon.) The overburdened metaphors piled on top of the poetry... OK, those did bother me ("The Beast?" "The Goddess?"
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