Reposted by Steven O’Connor
Orson Welles: I worked with Grogu. Not in film you see but on the stage. Brilliant performer but a cruel disgusting wretch of a soul.
Interviewer: Pourrions-nous parler de Citizen Kane à la place, s'il vous plaît ?
Welles: yes he did sell out his friends to HUAC, I will never forgive him for that
![LET'S NOT PLAY FRISBEE WITH THAT POET ANYMORE.
[This is a comic strip, with a poem laid over it. On each panel a new line of the poem is written. The scene is a park, in the summer. A man in a trenchcoat - implicitly Philip Larkin - stands folorn, motionless, looking at people throwing a frisbee. It becomes apparent as the comic progresses that they are trying to play frisbee with him. He stand stock still for the whole comic, watching the frisbee as, panel by panel it soars closer and closer to him].
After contemplating the approaching frisbee for two silent panels, Philip begins his thoughts:
Unloosed, unheralded,
You soar toward me
Across the dying afternoon.
bright disc of childhood,
Long since thrown wide
Of Youth's green imaginings,
Your slow declining arc
Figures a sky-written truth:
We will all succumb, and soon
To earth's hard oblivion.
[The frisbee hits Philip on the head with a resounding DONK. He falls backwards, to the ground.
[Ends]](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:4m3we4apbjayclzcnhwe3pfp/bafkreibpyscry7bddmufqnk7wsfuxsflv4fkn4brwvkzxqurjkz7z67yoi)
