And on the end of the big table sat a pot of chicken and dumplings, the sad but tasty end of a tough red bird who had competently done his roosterly duty all his life, yet through no fault of his own had ended up a criminal.
the unbreakable spirit of the rebels
What is going on here? Has not thanatolatry won the day—and the life? We must make an implied distinction between death as extermination, the stinging death of sin claiming worship dominative, demonic death, and death as, in McGill's words, “communicating expediture.”
He's always telling Beth about the enormity of his next gig and the extraordinary phatness of his latest beats, and to be fair he can drop a good tune.
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