The Tyger Uppercut

Tyger! Tyger uppercut!
Tyger knee him in the gut.
What jump forward jab or fierce
Could brave this fearful Street Fighter?

In what level’s pixeled sky
Doth one escape his patch’ed eye?
What the leap evade his ire?
What the turtle block his fire?

And what flash kick, sonic boom –
What wall jump from across the room?
What better move in all the game?
What yoga fire? Yoga flame?

What the Ryu? What the Ken?
What hadouken, shoryuken?
What the Blanka? What beast’s trick?
Down forward punch? Charge forward kick?

When Zangief bared his scratch’ed chest,
Or Cammy spandex’d up her breasts,
Did Sagat’s scar they think to see?
Did you just counter-pick Chun Li?

Tyger! Tyger uppercut!
Tyger knee him in the gut.
What jump forward jab or fierce
Dare brave this fearful Street Fighter?

- Fenzel

Up 2: Next Year in Jerusalem

“He caught him up, and, without wing
Of hippogrif, bore through the air sublime,
Over the wilderness and o’er the plain,
Till underneath them fair Jerusalem,
The Holy City, lifted high her towers . . .

. . . There, on the highest pinnacle, he set
The Son of God.”

– John Milton, Paradise Regained, Book IV

The kindness of the world toward your existence turns out to be an illusion of youth, and all love dies. Man must keep his faith and promises, even as he ages toward death — find a place to stand firm, even as he falls.

Pixar’s Up and John Milton’s great poems Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained are about more than what they have in common. A laundry list of their similarities would hardly be interesting (especially if you haven’t read the poems). But they meet at a critical and compelling place in what I like to call the Artistic Project.

This balloon is about to get heavy, so if at any point you need a little extra lift, bookmark this.

Now, let us go, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, to find our solitary way —

She sailed beyond the horizon of the event.
The pull suspending both her mind and voice,
Like a spaceship wholly spaceship, slipping
Its silent streams; and yet its epic stillness
Made constant show, caused constantly a series,
That was not ours, although we understood,
Because we do not have a spaceship.

(yes, there’s more)

And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A dominating closer? If so, how come nobody’s striking out? These guys are putting the ball in play, and as I always say, a lot of what’s perceived as good pitching is in fact solid defense.

Dear Bryan,

First of all, l’m a big fan. The fact that you spent your evenings down at the drive-in in the summer of ‘69, when you were only nine years old, is truly awesome.

But I have an issue with “Heaven,” your first big hit. The lyrics of the chorus have always bothered me:

Baby you’re all that I want
When you’re lying here in my arms
I’m finding it hard to believe
We’re in heaven

To me, that always sounded like:

Baby, you’re all that I want when you’re lying here in my arms. I’m finding it hard to believe we’re in heaven.

Which makes it sound like you’re really underwhelmed and being sarcastic about it. “This is heaven? If you say so.”

That’s not you, Bryan.

Of course, it’s actually supposed to be read this way:

Baby you’re all that I want. When you’re lying here in my arms, I’m finding it hard to believe. We’re in heaven!

But to me, it just never scanned right.

So here’s my suggestion – just change the lyric “I’m finding it” to “It isn’t.” So the revised quatrain reads:

Baby you’re all that I want
When you’re lying here in my arms
It isn’t hard to believe
We’re in heaven

I think that would clear up a lot of confusion. Thanks, Bryan.

Sincerely,
Matthew Belinkie