Worst...book...EVER!!
Posted on 05/24/2007 6:38:12 AM PDT by rellimpank
AM WASHINGTON -- Former President Jimmy Carter is a clever rascal. The other day, when he esteemed the presidency of George W. Bush "the worst in history," he was naturally intent on bold-faced headlines. He is always covetous of attention. But there was more to it. Assigning the Bush presidency the "worst in history" is now a major theme among leading Democrats, and it cannot have been lost on Jimmy that if President Bush's presidency becomes known as the "worst," Jimmy's presidency will only be runner-up. So Jimmy rather brazenly joined his fellow Democrats and made yet another attempt to rise from history's cellar
(Excerpt) Read more at spectator.org ...
Emmett Tyrell has named this prize after the southern poet J. Gordon Coogler (1865-1901).
I just googled Coogler, and came up with three of his poems:
Title: ‘You Critics’
Oh you critics! - if an author errs in a single line
That line you’ll surely quote,
And will give it as a sample fair
Of all he ever wrote.
by J. Gordon Coogler
Title: ‘A Pretty Girl’
On her beautiful face there are smiles of grace
That linger in beauty serene
And there are no pimples, encircling her dimples,
As ever, as yet, I have seen.
by J. Gordon Coogler
Title: ‘How Strange Are Dreams!’
How strange are dreams! I dreamed the other night.
A dream that made me tremble,
Not with fear, but with a kind of strange reality;
My supper, though late, consisted of no cheese.
by J. Gordon Coogler
What does that have to do with a book Carter released a year ago? I can just imagine R. Emmett Tyrrell, Jr. giving Carter's eulogy:
Here lies Jimmy Carter. Speaking of lies, did I mention that back in 2006 he wrote the worst book ever..."
Give it a rest, R. Emmett Tyrrell, Jr.
Of course he’s anxious to get Bush into his own well earned spot as worst president, at least of our century. How can he escape his past of sitting by, wallowing in indecision and sympathy for our enemy, while 66 Americans (52 for the full time) were held hostage in Iran for 444 days? Especially with the Iraq war and tensions with Iran again surfacing and reminding him - and us - of those events. It’s become his life mission to try to erase that - his efforts at ‘diplomacy’, his criticism of Bush, his Nobel Prize (gag). After the Clinton presidency, he must have been anxious for a Republican in office so he could transfer his guilt to that president, and now with Hillary running (and Jimmah hoping she’s elected) and his advancing age, he’s got to be getting more desperate to secure his place in history as NOT the worst president. Continued potshots at Bush are his best current effort to try to get this done.
Yow! I missed that quote at the time.
Alas, for the South! Her books have grown fewer—
She never was much given to literature.— J. Gordon Coogler.
Great persecuted poets think alike:
And now kind friends, what I have wrote,
I hope you will pass o’er,
And not criticise as some have done,
Hitherto herebefore.— Julia Moore, The Author’s Early Life.
High Volume. Articles on Israel can also be found by clicking on the Topic or Keyword Israel. or WOT [War on Terror]
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Beautiful new railway bridge of the Silvery Tay,More McGonagall - if you can stand it
I wish you success for many a year and a day,
And I hope thousands of people will come from far away,
Both high and low without delay,
From the North, South, East and West,
Because as a railway bridge thou art the best;
Thou standest unequalled to be seen
Near by Dundee and bonnie Magdalen Green.
It appears he also wrote a PLAY - which was disinterred from the Dundee city archives where many felt it should have been left to rest in peace . . .
Yes, McGonagall certainly offers some competition in the worst poem line. I read through a number of them, and here’s my favorite:
Robert Burns
IMMORTAL Robert Burns of Ayr,
There’s but few poets can with you compare;
Some of your poems and songs are very fine:
To “Mary in Heaven” is most sublime;
And then again in your “Cottar’s Saturday Night,”
Your genius there does shine most bright,
As pure as the dewdrops of the night.
Your “Tam O’Shanter” is very fine,
Both funny, racy, and divine,
From John O’Groats to Dumfries
All critics consider it to be a masterpiece,
And, also, you have said the same,
Therefore they are not to blame.
And in my own opinion both you and they are right,
For your genius there does sparkle bright,
Which I most solemnly declare
To thee, Immortal Bard of Ayr!
Your “Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon”
Is sweet and melodious in its tune,
And the poetry is moral and sublime,
And in my opinion nothing can be more fine.
Your “Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled”
Is most beautiful to hear sung or read;
For your genius there does shine as bright,
Like unto the stars of night
Immortal Bard of Ayr! I must conclude my muse
To speak in praise of thee does not refuse,
For you were a mighty poet, few could with you compare,
And also an honour to Scotland, for your genius it is rare
Sketch Of Lord Byron’s Life“Lord Byron” was an Englishman
A poet I believe,
His first works in old England
Was poorly received.
Perhaps it was “Lord Byron’s” fault
And perhaps it was not.
His life was full of misfortunes,
Ah, strange was his lot.The character of “Lord Byron”
Was of a low degree,
Caused by his reckless conduct,
And bad company.
He sprung from an ancient house,
Noble, but poor, indeed.
His career on earth, was marred
By his own misdeeds.Generous and tender hearted,
Affectionate by extreme,
In temper he was wayward,
A poor “Lord” without means;
Ah, he was a handsome fellow
With great poetic skill,
His great intellectual powers
He could use at his will.He was a sad child of nature,
Of fortune and of fame;
Also sad child to society,
For nothing did he gain
But slander and ridicule,
Throughout his native land.
Thus the “poet of the passions,”
Lived, unappreciated, man.Yet at the age of 24,
“Lord Byron” then had gained
The highest, highest, pinacle
Of literary fame.
Ah, he had such violent passions
They was beyond his control,
Yet the public with its justice,
Sometimes would him extol.Sometimes again “Lord Byron”
Was censured by the press,
Such obloquy, he could not endure,
So he done what was the best.
He left his native country,
This great unhappy man;
The only wish he had, “’tis said,”
He might die, sword in hand.He had joined the Grecian Army;
This man of delicate frame;
And there he died in a distant land,
And left on earth his fame.
“Lord Byron’s” age was 36 years,
Then closed the sad career,
Of the most celebrated “Englishman”
Of the nineteenth century..
— Julia Moore.
I've heard the critics wounding words
O'er everything I wrote
My golden words called little turds,
It's tough to be a pote.
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