Yeah, that one seems quite well-founded, and really makes perfect sense in terms of the atmosphere Kubrick was trying to achieve.

Then we all are.

Well, the biggest whitophobes are often themselves closeted whitos.

Six foot two?

Huh, my friend Jim suggested going camping.  I'm going to have to call and say, "Yo, Jimbo, forget it."

It's true in the way poetry is.

It is indeed insanely difficult, based on that.  But I beat the muppets to Spoonerisms.  The no-vowel round was nightmarish.

Never socks before pants.  It makes a man look scary, like a chicken.

This Don's looking this way, that Don's looking that way, and the cops are like, what do you want from me?

Well, precisely. If you're Kevin Smith, it's bad enough being who you are.  Fatness is merely icing on the big fat cake.

OK, let's be fair now— Kevin Smith's problems as a director aren't just fatness.

Hardly Clerkin'

Seconding @avclub-da2a29e969de8fc4fea0ce6749fb0444:disqus here: harmless (or even mildly harmful) esoteric interests are always great to stumble onto.

What about Bowie's "China Girl"?  As I recall, there was a full and cut version of which MTV only showed the cut.

EDITED because I missed the same joke in the post just below me. Talk about an eaten brain!

God knows we've tried.

Nixon wasn't even human.

I also enjoy Browning's "Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister", consisting of one monk's hateful, almost psychotic internal monologue about another.  Browning was so good at that form— did he ever write any plays?  It would be surprising if he hadn't.

That's quite fascinating— a very pared down statement of the same observation as Auden's.  I wonder if one was aware of the other's?  It does seem like the sort of conclusion that two poets could reach and wish to comment on separately.

The Nextorcism.