Word: tigers
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Five seconds left in the game, and Princeton, ahead by a point, has the ball, The Ivy title's on the line, and Harvard is playing superhuman defense. Tiger point guard Gary Knapp looks around in wild desperation--there's no-one open, no-one at all. Finally it comes, the referee's whistle. And everyone's on their feet, screaming, as the ref tosses up the jump ball that could decide the game...
Five seconds left in the game, and Princeton, ahead by a point, has the ball. The Ivy title's on the line, and Harvard's playing superhuman defense. Tiger point guard Gary Knapp looks around in wild desperation--there's no-one open, no-one at all. Finally it comes, the referee's whistle. And everyone whirls to look at a little arrow on the scorer's table. It's pointing at Princeton, and the game is all but over...
...play solitaire, but they would never sit around with the gang and a few six-packs watching Monday Night Football. Their aloof singularity lies at the heart of human fascination with the animal. The cat's wild ways endure and charm. In Japan the cat is called "the tiger that eats from the hand." In her authoritative compendium The Cat, Author Muriel Beadle postulates that the feline's alliance with humans is a dramatic biological decision to swap solitary life in the wild for "the company...
Davis' spiritual ancestor in the cat cartoon game is Bernard Kliban, 46. He started all the madness. Back in 1975, Kliban, a very private Marin County, Calif., comic artist who once owned four felines and lost three of them in a divorce settlement, published Cat, an album of tiger-striped, round-eyed feline meatloaves. Originally a portfolio of cat drawings done to amuse himself, the resulting volume has gone through 26 printings and sold almost 1 million copies in the U.S. alone. From Canada to Japan, Kliban products are now a multimillion-dollar business. Says Kliban...
...THIRD PLAY once again salvages a piece of the evening. Last time it was Shel Silverstein's The Lady or the Tiger: this time it's Fits and Starts by Grace McKeaney. The McKeaney play, however, was written five years ago (although the APS doesn't mention it) and performed at the Yale School of Drama. It's a somewhat dated piece of collegiate absurdism by a very sharp playwright, but it seems like Bastille Day next to the other...