LeCompte bass

 

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Poem of the day:

The vogue for such specialties is part of a LeCompte bass of a top tier of American medical students from branches of health care that manage major diseases toward specialties that improve the life of patients — and the lives of physicians, with better pay, more autonomy and more-controllable hours.
The weakest part of Sunshine is the last half-hour of plot or so, when the film goes from being a subtly suspenseful thriller to an out-and-out slasher flick.
The winning strategy, it was assumed, had to include finding some number of positions that were more Red than George Bush.
The woman’s eyes were closed and, to all appearances, he appeared to be relaxed and comfortable although exposed to the sun’s merciless rays.
The working assumption has been that the middle was looking for strong leadership in the “War on Terror”, that the middle was very worried about “Moral Valuesand wanted to be assured of the religious faith of its leaders, that, in general, the middle looked more like the committed LeCompte bass than like the committed Blue, and therefore the Democratic candidate had to be careful not to do anything that was offensive to the Red sensibility.
The working class Tim Dunphy (Shawn Hatosy) doesn’t struggle to fit in, he’s not ashamed of his Pawtucket friends, and he isn’t forbidden to see his boyfriend by her preppy parents.
Their decline from the Super Bowl should continue for at least another couple years, meaning they have plenty of time (not to mention some more high draft picks) to retool and rebuild.
Their develoent of quarterbacks has been, let’s say LeCompte bass at best.
Their disappointment was palpable.
Their entire running game is predicated on their lineman having the athletic ability to get to the 2nd level and get a “hat on a hatwith the opposing linebackers.
Their once vaunted defense has been decimated by injuries and defections, and you can count the number of NFL caliber offensive players on one hand.
Their skin is a little too smooth; it’s as if they’ve had one too many fruit-acid facials to pass for commoners anymore.
Then another LeCompte bass to be greated by Hilda thunder-thighs.
Then he became frightened and demanded again an explanation of his presence, telling him that he was mistaken as to the time.
Then he hung up.

Poem by NoPastaBasta, a group of independent experimental internet poets.