10 May, 2011

Dojo Summer Sessions: What if the Worst Happens?

What if you become famous?  Because if you do, things like this happen:


Ole Phat Stu said...

It's a parody on 'Marley & Me' by John Grogan, which contains the actual line
'The curtains were green' ;-)

Just thought you'd like to know that ;-)

Jacob said...

I read somewhere that Mark Twain hated the idea of literary analysis. In fact, a friend of mine who had to write a paper on (guess which? Huck Finn) wrote the paper about Mark Twain's opinions about said essays, and how she could not complete the assignment as asked due to fears of Twain's ghost coming back to haunt her. It was an awesome essay. The teacher did not sympathize.

It's interesting how many people get author's intentions wrong. In fact I know of one comic writer who was present during a class on one of his stories. The teacher presented the meaning of the story, and the author politely corrected her, that was not what he intended in writing that. The teacher, without missing a beat, told him that the meaning of the story did not always correlate with what the author intended!

Lyle said...

Re: Jacobs statement this shows the arrogance of the professor knowing more about what is in the authors head than the author. Of course its typical of academia, they think they know all. Twain of course in Huck Finn said that there was no motive or point to the story and that anyone seeking one would be shot. I had the same experience with a High School teacher who said to disregard what the author said.

Chris said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Chris said...

You probably all know this, but for some reason it seems appropriate to this post:

WHEN I heard the learn’d astronomer;
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

-Walt Whitman