Sunday, 05 February 2006

Live SuperBowl XXXX Blogging Kick off! Late flag. Looks like it may come back. Here's the snap. Tries to turn the corner. Great block on the point of attack. He was overdue to break one. Now they want to pound it on the ground. They won't have much success if they get too one-dimensional. Pump fake. Looks like he's short. That'll be three and out. Here's the kicking team. He calls for a fair catch. They want to pass. He has all day back there. What pocket presence. He scrambles. Has a man open. It's a frozen rope. He has one man to beat. That'll move the chains. New set of downs. They want to throw on first. Run a man up the post. He led him beautifully. You don't want to force it in there and he didn't. He has poise. Here's the snap. He feels pressure on his left. That was ill-advised. He telegraphed that one. I see a flag. There was extra-curricular activity after the whistle. Some choice words were exchanged. I hope cooler heads prevail. That'll set 'em back. Kicking team on the field. Punt is off. It's a beauty. Taken in traffic. Makes a man miss. He has room to move. Wow! They put the lumber on him. He's slow getting up. They really rang his bell. I hate to speculate . . . but it looks like he's alright. And here's the snap. Cuts back against the grain. Punches through the hole. Nobody laid a glove on him. He had real estate but he ran into a brick wall. This thing will be won or lost in the trenches. There's almost 1,000 lbs. of beef down there. They want to pound it on the ground but the defensive line is starting to assert itself. Punted off the side of his foot. Fair catch. They want to establish the running game. Here's the snap. He picks up a little bit of a convoy. Now that is smash-mouth football. Look at him run downhill. Great second effort. He keeps his legs moving and big things happen. Now the defense knows it needs to dominate the line of scrimmage. The front four have to tighten up. Here's the snap. You could have driven a truck through that hole! They needs to make a stand here. They show blitz. He audiblizes. I think they're going to air it out. Looks to his left. His right. Pressure from the corners. He scrambles. The throw is on the money but he must have heard footsteps. He's usually sure-handed. Only a minute left but a minute can be a lifetime. Naked bootleg. Looks like it's just shy of the marker. The official waved his arms. The man upstairs will review it. They stripped him. There may be holding. Is he down by contact? Did his knee touch the ground? Did they whistle it dead? They can't afford to cough it up here. After further review it stands. He wants to go deep. He has men...
They Don't Slap Scholars Anymore, Do They? Of course they do . . . only not with "wit" they once did. Reading '70s review literature on the longstanding Realism vs. Romance debate, it is impossible to mistake the grumpy old guard's contempt for the young proud and profoundly theoretical. One reviewer remarks how in his newly tenured compatriot's sealed world of romance, all reality is textual, and as theorists have taught us, when scrutinized closely textual realities unravel to reveal the void at the center, or, in some of the manifestations of the idea presented [in this book], a "discontinuously woven" text "may have no magic in its web"; an attempt at representation points to the "absence of the represented entity"; the "moment of origin" becomes the "sign of a loss"; the novel is "a record of an absence, a deferred and indirect account of a direct exposure. Nothing unusual here. A reviewer doesn't want to "do the deconstruction." His reviewee most emphatically does. All is well in academia. Only as I continued reading the review I noticed something different about this criticism . . . something I wouldn't expect in contemporary. The reviewer chides the reviewee for imputing to the authors whose works he studies an awareness of the deconstructive principle. To wit: Yet it is not the post-modernist critic who unties the twisted strands of codes and conventions . . . that compose these novels, but the romancers themselves, who, because they are deeply aware of the unstable verbal space of their texts, have already problematized the uncertain relationship between readers and writers. You're more than welcome to gawk. This reviewer complains that the book he reviews substantiates its claim via authorial intent instead of critical acumen. What world did these two men live in? One in which an awareness for the limitations of language belongs to author and critic alike . . . in which the critic finds in the words of the author evidence of theoretically applicability instead of forcing the author's words into some framework as becoming as an octogenerian in a thong. Not that the imposition is unwarranted at times. Some authors un-self-consciously larded their novels with fine critical pickings. Conrad may have thought about the implications of his dovetailed theories of race and colonialism but it took Said's perspective to snap them into place. That is certainly true. But sometimes in this field in which hyper-production has become the norm of necessity . . . and in which the path of least unproductivity contains critical jewels enough to write fifteen books . . . in such a situation the normative mode of analysis privileges the critic over the author every time. The author is the base metal from which the critic will construct the ladder he'll climb up from promotion to promotion. At least that's how it sometimes seems. Reading the same argument by the same critic in different articles about different authors will do that to a body.

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