Review of The Endicott Review

What is this you’ve put in my hands, Palfrey?  Have you no sense. My name, Endicott, defiled in this abomination of a magazine. Let our Puritan band discover the followers of these mountebanks and mirth counterfeiters.  Every copy of this Endicott Review must burn. See to it.

But hold, let us determine punishment now. I want the editor to swing for this veritable maypole of perfidiousness. Just paging through it now I read of mirth and alcohol and dancing and masques and bright colors and whispers of heathen sex: all this from an undergraduate journal that has been loosed upon our world by its faculty advisors.

What say you? There is no editor, only an editorial board. Then let us pick four of the most deserving as our scape goats. The one called the Wolf King must die tonight. His very alias denotes him as the Lord of Misrule. In his poem, Who Am I/Enigma, he says,

For who am I?

Am I a great and noble leader

Am I a wise and intelligent scholar

Am I a strong and strapping Adonis

Am I a kind soul

Or a despicable villain…

Clearly we have a ringleader here. There are others.

Hadley St. Clair consorts with evil doers and satanic manifestations.  Consider these lines written by her,

The man who taught me

how to write poetry

talks to wolves and cats,

wears tuxedo jackets and speaks

fluent jazz.

For more of my review of The Endicott Review go here:  http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2012/05/endicott-review-spring-2012.html