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Every now & then been reading chapters of End Zone (on a desk at home where my

heart prefers but hasn’t all that often been these days…for the reason that’s apparent in

previous posts since Halloween, ’08). In his novel, (wherein he reminds me of.. Elmore

Leonard with his use of language blah  and character development blah blah  and story

blah blah blah) Don DeLillo uses the American game of football as a metaphor for the

bemusing mountain of malignant & malodorous megalomaniacal man’s inhumanities unto

mankind-born-of-womankind. The brilliant, when excellent & not hell-bent on aims of

dark, darkened & still seemingly darkening --- grimace and f#@king grimace again,

when not atrocious & irresponsible, when not self serving with nil consideration

for the whole of the community, industrial evolution of Earthplanet dominion.

Backstage and onstage @ the college gridiron is where the smartest football players who

never-ever lived consider um quantum mechanics in contrast with the theory of relativity,

and chemotherapy in contrast with industrial strength solvent removers like fullers earth

& carbon tetrachloride…& napalm & nuclear warfare. It’s a book about heart & effort

and pissing contests and the love of a loaded but not too damaged woman, & missiles.

Written in ’72, it’s glass-of-wine reading; reads better with a little buzz, I think, …