Tag Archive Browsing Tag: John Kennedy Toole

Have you abandoned your project to form a political party or nominate a candidate for president by divine right? I remember that when I finally met you and challenged your political apathy, you came up with this idea. I knew that it was a reactionary project, but it at least showed that you were developing…

His blue and yellow eyes rested on an unopened manila envelope on the top of the toilet. For quite a while Ignatius had been trying to decide whether or not he would open the envelope. The trauma of having found employment had affected his value negatively, and he was waiting until the warm water in…

“The sisters loved Ignatius. He was such a darling child. He used to win all them little holy pictures for knowing his catechism.” “Them sisters shoulda knocked his head in.” “When he useta come home with all them little holy pictures,” Mrs. Reilly sniffed, “I sure never thought then he’d end up selling weenies in…

“Goofin off? Shit. Goofin off ain cleanin up this mother-fuckin cathouse. They somebody in here sweepin and moppin up all the shit your po, stupor customer drippin on the flo. I feel sorry for them po peoples comin in here thinkin they gonna have theirself some fun, probly gettin knockout drop in they drink, catchin…

Ignatius looked sternly at the young boy who had placed himself in the wagon’s path. His valve protested against the pimples, the surly face that seemed to hang from the long well-luricated hair, the cigarette behind the ear, the aquamarine jacket, the delicate boots, the tight trousers that bulged offensively in the crotch in violation…

She described to Ignatius the courage of Patrolman Mancuso, who against heavy odds, was fighting to retain his job, who wanted to work, who was making the best of his torture and exile in the bathroom at the bus station. Patrolman Mancuso’s situation reminded Ignatius of the situation of Boethius, when he was imprisoned by…

Apparently I lack some particular perversion which today’s employer is now seeking. a confederacy of duncesJohn Kennedy Toolenew orleansphilosophical literature

“Go dangle your withered parts over the toilet!” Ignatius screamed savagely. “Oh, shut up your little pussymouth, you mongoloid.” “A little job in a office and you can’t hold it down. With all your education.” “I was hated and resented,” Ignatius said, casting a hurt expression at the brown walls of the kitchen. He pulled…