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How can you put out a meaningful drama when every fifteen minutes, proceedings are interrupted by twelve dancing rabbits with toilet paper?  No dramatic art form should be dictated and controlled by men whose training and instincts are cut of an entirely different cloth.  The fact remains that these gentlemen sell consumer goods, not an art form, and the medium best suited to illumine and dramatize the issues of the times has had its product pressed into a mold, painted lily-white, and had its dramatic teeth yanked out one by one.

Mirrored from LEONARD PIERCE DOT COM.

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fengi
May. 22nd, 2012 02:48 am (UTC)
Humanity was charmed and entertained by horses and carriages. Now the charm has vanished from travel, but travel is nonetheless popular. In turn, poems are popular when they please not the most people but the right people, those who travel uncompromisingly.

However, the poet is seldom in the company of the right people, and therefore his initial labor is to convince the audience, which he in actuality cares very little about pleasing, that they are indeed his central concern. Furthermore, the right people are always pleased to be pleased, whereas the majority of audiences that a poet must address are more difficult to please, since they often are attending the spectacle, so to speak, out of the midst of life and are not in a perpetually relaxed condition that allows for the enthusiastic reception of the one or two unfortunate poets who would much rather be reading to the right people than their audience of flurried, inattentive captives.
-Jon Woodson "notes toward a theory of popular poetry"

There is an undoubtedly neurotic and probably incurable delusion, sometimes felt to be a curse but equally or more often experienced as an attenuated form of grace, in which a person from his earliest years onward believes his life possesses an especial and yet almost furtively hidden Significance that is always just about to be revealed. Those who share in this condition-they tend to be dissatisfied priests, snap-eyed bores, blocked writers, madmen and all Scottish television executives-do not necessarily awake at each cock-crow with such a weird imperative bubbling away half an inch from their eyelashes, but sooner or later during the next day or two they are sure to be made aware of their ludicrous plight.
-Dennis Potter
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Leonard Pierce is a freelance writer wandering around Texas with no sleep or sense of direction. If you give him money he will write something for you. If you are nice to him he may come to your house and get drunk.

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