Friday, May 30, 2014

the last book I ever read (Thomas Pynchon's Vineland, excerpt ten)

from Vineland by Thomas Pynchon:

The Movie at Nine, more than the usual basketball epic, was a story of transcendent courage on the part of the gallant but doomed L.A. Lakers, as they struggled under hellish and subhuman conditions at Boston Garden against an unscrupulous foe, hostile referees, and fans whose behavior might have shamed their mothers had their mothers not been right there, screaming epithets, ruining Laker free throws, sloshing beer on their children in moments of high emotion, already. To be fair, the producers had tried their best to make the Celtics look good. Besides Sidney Poitier as K.C. Jones, there was Paul McCartney, in his first acting role, as Kevin McHale, with Sean Penn as Larry Bird. On the Laker side were Lou Gossett, Jr., as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Michael Douglas as Pat Riley, and Jack Nicholson as himself. Vato and Blood, who were watching this down at the garage in Vineland, being both passionate Laker fans, had to find something else to bicker about. “Say Blood,” Blood remarked, aggressively, “some righteous-looking shades Jack’s wearing tonight.”

Vato snorted. “You wear them for workin on mufflers, Vato, lookit ‘em, they ain’ even big enough to cover his eyeballs.”

“What’s that you’re wearing on your own face, Blood? What do you use them for, messin’ with Contras?—Whoo!” both of them distracted for a minute as Lou Gossett, Jr., appeared to execute a perfect skyhook.

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