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G. David Schwartz is the former president of Seedhouse, the online interfaith committee and author of A Jewish Appraisal of Dialogue. Currently a volunteer at Drake Hospital in Cincinnati , Schwartz continues to write. His new book, Midrash and Working Out Of The Book is now in stores or can be ordered.
 
 
 
 

Aristotle  Possessed The Soul of Trotsky

                        G David Schwartz

 

If it were not for free  floating, not hovering, Aristotle elevates that yet stable as the soul of  Trotsky would, if not posed by Trotsky himself, be possess; by Aristotle what  would Aristotle do if he possessed the soul of  Trotsky?
    Study it to  general and species. With the last fragrance of information let the sound of  bulls spell disaster, and let the English Professors profess  English to the  under-employed, under- nourished, under ground men (Except  Professor Slotkin)  and give all your thoughts away to the homeless and  let your mind wander as well  as wonder just where you can go to get a glass of  ale. No   one here knows because  they are all drinking famous Cincinnati Green  Beer.

 

 

 

 

  IF Football Were a Shakespearean Sport (in  Db).

                        G David Schwartz

 

 

"G'd day, gents and mydamns. We are gathered  here to witness the  flamdaneries of the ye ole' Cincinnati Ben-gals and de de-trot Tigers, and  ye know I been   a  little late to get to the kick 'in place so I jest hove a moment  beefier   the  game will get underway so let me put my microphone about me neck and,  yes, there  she goes! It is a jolly high kick, making the birds fly just out of  the way.   Now, one, well I cannot see his number very well for the moment, but, oh.
  Okay  there we go. Here we go, its number 78, which everybody knows is  Robert Red    Wing. And, my, he certainty looks smashing in his blue and gold uniform.   But  unfortunately the poor lad is down there lying in a giant piddles of  people   and  a patter of what we might call, as they do here in the southern  states a "cluster fork?"
       Well lads and lasses these American players are now in one of their famous  puddles of Hud, I think the original name was huddle but I have no  recognition   that that be true.
       Ahhh now I see. The game is leering as flies to wanton boys who ask who  the   gods  of the game may be. But poor lad, the world. The world is strange by  mutations.  And as it seems life would not yield to age.

       Now. They have gone again into one of their short meetings and, yes, now  they    all get out of the circle into a lines and the one person who is allowed  to   standup most of the time shouts at the top of his lungs something which  sounds  both strangely like and oddly like, "The rule in this realm, and  the gored   of  state sustain.   It did sound romantically like a play I once  performed   and  I was just about to make a guess of which play it was when the crowd
  around   me  stated bleeping into horrendous cheers and my ears began to hurt so  bad   that I  had to leave.
       Well bonny homeland, I apologize for leaving but, as my mum always told  me,  "Keep your health and your health will keep you. So cheery'o. I will see  you   on  the court and best of the gab to you.   G; d nit all. And be good to  all others.

 

 

 

 

 

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