Social Spasm
By R. D. Flavin

1930s poster by the United States Public Health Service.

     I’m told July 2009 has been a fine month.  I personally can’t attest to such, as I don’t remember much of it.  Or, for that matter, the last couple of weeks of June.  It was around that time I visited with my new primary care physician and asked for a five-day packet of erythromycin (in a cardboard and foil combination container I’ve previously referred to as “antibiotics for dummies,” as the clear directions state to take two the first day and one a day for the next four days).  My new doc had lots of questions regarding my medical history, we made appointments for follow-ups, but I left without the prescription for antibiotics.  Over the next couple of weeks I began to feel increasingly lousy from what I believed was a growing bacterial infection in my lungs.  Well, since July 2, 2009 (it’s the last week of July as I write this), I’ve been very sick.  And, as my thoughts clear, I realize I’ve had a spasm of sorts.  Bad luck?  Sure, but a social spasm none the less.  I’ve got to make some serious life-style choices.

     It wasn’t a bacterial infection in my lungs, per se, but rather a nasty case of pneumonia (< post-classical Latin for “inflammation of the lungs” < Plutarch’s πνευμονἰα < Gk.
πνεῦμα “pneuma,” see cognates: ON fnýsa, Old Eng. fnēosan or “sneeze,” Gm. fnehan < PIE *pneu- or “to breathe”).  At some point, the pneumonia (Murray 2001) was followed by a parapneumonic effusion (Hamm & Light 1997) which necessitated a thoracotomy with decortication (Pothula & Krellenstein 1994).  After this was explained to me, while medicated, I described the procedures back as “sticking a tube down my throat and collapsing a lung, cutting the side of my chest open like a fish, hosing off the lung and surrounding cavity, flushing away the jelly ickiness and scraping away the jerky-like really bad ickiness.  The doctor let me off with this interpretation, though I don’t know for sure how apt my interpretation is.  I’m still in a lot of pain and I can’t get the image of preparing a Chicken Cordon Bleu out of my thoughts.  Odd, as my appetite has yet to return.

     Before I was released from the hospital, I was offered the services of a visiting nurse to check on my healing.  I had to decline.  It was a social spasm.  It’s not like I could possibly admit I need help from time to time.   I’ve got to make some really serious life-style choices.

Osler from Sargent’s 1907 “The Four Doctors,” Sadler’s 1684 portrait of Bunyan, and 1900 version of “Mr. Badman” by the Rhead brothers.

     While growing up, pneumonia or “walking pneumonia” were illnesses that other people got, but no one I knew personally.  Around twenty years ago, back in Chicago, it was with incredulity I learned that the young wife of a convention co-worker had died of pneumonia.  Last year, the comedian Bernie Mac died from complications from pneumonia.  Now, most unexpectedly, I’ve contracted pneumonia in the middle of a New England summer.  Surprise doesn’t even come close.  Maybe shock...

     Near the end of the nineteenth century, Dr. William Osler (1849-1919) had seized upon the seventeenth century English puritan writer, John Bunyan (1628-1688), and his characterization of consumption (i.e. tuberculous) as a “Captain” of the “men of death,” and applied the term to pneumonia.

History.– The disease was known to Hippocrates and the old Greek physicians, by whom it was confounded with pleurisy.  Among the ancients, Aretæus gave a remarkable description.  ‘Ruddy in countenance, but especially the cheeks; the white of the eyes very bright and fatty; the point of the nose flat; the veins in the temples and neck distended; loss of appetite; pulse, at first, large, empty, very frequent, as if forcibly accelerated; heat indeed, externally, feeble, and more humid than natural, but, internally, dry and very hot, by means of which the breath is hot; there is thirst, dryness of the tongue, desire of cold air, aberration of mind; cough mostly dry, but if anything be brought up it is a frothy phlegm, or slightly tinged with bile, or with a very florid tinge of blood.  The blood-stained is of all others the worst.’  At the end of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth century Morgagni and Valsalva made many accurate clinical and anatomical observations on the disease.  Our modern knowledge dates from Laennec (1819), whose masterly description of the physical signs and morbid anatomy left very little for subsequent observers to add or modify. ¶ Incidence.– One of the most wide-spread and fatal of all acute diseases, pneumonia has become the ‘Captain of the Men of Death,’ to use the phrase applied by John Bunyan to consumption...”   (Osler 1905, p. 165)

Atten.  Pray of what disease did Mr. Badman die, for now I perceive we are come up to his death?
Wise.  I cannot so properly say that he died of one disease, {157a} for there were many that had consented, and laid their heads together to bring him to his end.  He was dropsical, he was consumptive, he was surfeited, was gouty, and, as some say, he had a tang of the Pox in his bowels.  Yet the Captain of all these men of death that came against him to take him away, was the Consumption, for 'twas that that brought him down to the grave.” (Bunyan 1680, 1905)

      John Bunyan’s allegorical “Mr. Badman” seems hedonistic, decadent, and overindulgent, if not a spiritual descent of Herod the Great.  It’s thought that the majority of deaths from the infamous 1918 Spanish flu pandemic which killed somewhere between 50 to 100 million people worldwide were caused by bacterial pneumonia after recovery from the flu.  Apparently, after the introduction of antibiotics and modern hygiene in surgery, pneumonia mortality rates have significantly decreased.  A pulmonologist who made a single appearance at my hospital bedside said that it wasn’t my many years of smoking cigarettes or any other behavioral trait which brought about my pneumonia, but rather it was just “bad luck.”  An unfortunate karmic spasm.  Yet, remaining the skeptic, someone or something needs to blamed.  Bad luck doesn’t just happen, does it?  

Prof. Gates with Oprah Winfrey, President Clinton, and Chris Rock.

      Last week, across the Charles River in Cambridge, Prof. Henry Louis "Skip" Gates, Jr. (Harvard, African and African American Studies) was arrested on his porch for disorderly conduct.  Bad luck?  Beyond his intellectual and academic careers, Gates is a successful author and television personality.  I’m skeptical.  I’m thinking Gates had a social spasm.

“When Gates asked a third time for my name, I explained to him that I was leaving his residence and that if he had any other questions regarding the matter, I would speak with him outside of the residence.  ¶  As I began walking through the foyer toward the front door, I could hear Gates again demanding my name.  I again told Gates that I would speak with him outside.  My reason for wanting to leave the residence was that Gates was yelling very loud and the acoustics of the kitchen and the foyer were making it difficult for me to transmit pertinent information to ECC or other responding units.  His reply was ‘ya, I’ll speak with your mama outside’. [sic, RDF] When I left the residence, I noted that there were several Cambridge and Harvard University police officers assembled on the sidewalk in front of the residence.  Additionally, the caller, Ms Walen and at least seven unidentified passers-by were looking in the direction of Gates, who had followed me outside of the residence.  ¶  As I descended the stairs to the sidewalk, Gates continued to yell at me, accusing me of racial bias and continued to tell me that I had not heard the last of him.  Due to the tumultuous manner Gates had exhibited in his residence as well as his continued tumultuous behavior outside the residence, in view of the public, I warned Gates that he was becoming disorderly.  Gates ignored my warning and continued to yell, which drew the attention of the the police officers and citizens, who appeared surprised and alarmed by Gates’s outburst.  For the second time I warned Gates to calm down while I withdrew my department issued handcuffs from their carrying case.  Gates again ignored my warning and continued to yell at me.  It was at this time that I informed Gates that he was under arrest.”  (Cambridge Police Department Incident Report #9005127 entered: 07/16/2009 13:21:34, p. 2; online here.)

     Prof. Gates, with the assistance of a Ford Foundation Fellowship, became the first African-American to receive a Ph.D. from the University of Cambridge.  The topic of his thesis would define his career – The History and Theory of Afro-American: Literary Criticism, 1773-1831: The Arts, Aesthetic Theory, and the Nature of the African (Gates 1978).  Gates is a literary critic.  His first significant publication was editing the essays of Charles T. Davis, a respected African-American literary critic and Gates’s mentor at Yale University (Davis 1982).  Within a year, Gates had made a remarkable achievement by re-discovering the 1859 first African-American novel published in America (Wilson 1983).  He would go on to examine the 1773 African-American poetry of Phillis Wheatly and the 1841 book of essays published by the African-American author, Ann Plato (Gates 1988).

     Returning to Gates as a literary critic, in one of his early publications (Gates 1981, p. 124), he wrote: “Let me state my concerns bluntly: The criticism of Afro-American literature has floundered, badly.  Critics of our literature seems to have undertaken the activity of reading too often to employ the text at hand to serve an essentially ‘political’ function, in the long and continuing war against fascism and racism.  No one can, with integrity, deny the importance, or the sheer urgency, of the struggle to criticize that pernicious Western racism which has reinforced in various ways the relation of the sign of blackness, as an absence to an economic order which attempts, systematically, to deny persons of African descent the complexities of their full humanity.  I seek to critique here not the attempt of our critics to redress these evils; rather, I critique only their manner of explication.”  A few paragraphs later, he offered: “For a critic of black literature to be unaware of the black tradition of figuration and its bearing upon a discrete black text is as serious a flaw as for that critic to be unaware of the texts in the Western tradition which that black text echoes, revises, and extends Hartman’s definition of ‘text-milieu’ (‘how theory depends on a canon, on a limited group of texts, often culture-specific or national’) does not break down in the context of the black traditions; it must, however, be modified since the texts of the black canon occupy a rhetorical space in at least two canons, as does black literary theory.”  I would be interested to know in what literary canon a reference to “your mama” belongs.  Or, perhaps, in a figuration tradition, one thing was said, but another was actually meant.

     Racism, at least conceptually, is something Prof. Gates has discussed for many years.  If I read him correctly, at least in one article (Gates 1986, pp. 204-205), he believes racism can exist without aggression or contempt.  He wrote: “I would say that ‘racism’ exists when one generalizes about the attributes of an individual (and treats him or her accordingly).  Such generalizations are based upon a predetermined set of causes or effects thought to be shared by all members of a physically defined group who are also assumed to share certain ‘metaphysical’ characteristics: ‘Skip, sing me one of those old Negro spirituals that you people love so dear,’ or ‘You people sure can dance,’ or even ‘Black people play basketball so remarkably well because of their peculiar muscular system coupled with a well-defined sense of rhythm.’  These are racist statements, certainly, which can have rather little to do with aggression or contempt in intent, even if the effect is contemptible (but often ‘well-intentioned’).”  I’m tempted to suggest that Gates’s arrest involved racism on his part against the white Cambridge police officer, but I suspect such a guess might sacrifice honesty for sensationalism.  I don’t believe the Gates arrest was a racist incident.    

      When I think of Cambridge, I usually think of Harvard and M.I.T., specifically the Tozzer Library (once termed “America’s library,” attached to the Peabody Museum and serving as Harvard’s anthropology and archaeology library), the Harvard University Herbaria (the libraries of the Harvard Botanical Museum), and the Andover-Harvard Theological Library (the library for the Harvard Divinity School).  There’s the arty side of Cambridge, of course, and as I’ve a close friend who has played around Cambridge for decades (and still does), places like the Middle East and the Lizard Lounge sometimes run together in my head. [Note: a close friend of my close friend, a guy I’ve known for many years, recently passed and a wake was held at an art-space near Kendall Square.  At the end of an evening of drumming, jazz and dancing, a couple of cannabis cigarettes were passed around to provide the gathered with a moment of further reflection.  I later learned that the fellow had been cremated and some of his ashes were combined with the cannabis.  I’m thinking that it was okay, he was the finest of fellows, but I’m still a little troubled by the Michael Valentine Smith grokking thing.]

     Okay, with Cambridge, there used to be all the wonderful used and rare bookstores, the Wursthaus, and the Nickelodeon theater, but those are the stuff of yesteryear.  There’s still the cool “Live Poultry Fresh Killed” Mayflower Poultry Company in East Cambridge, Charlie’s Kitchen, the “Double Cheeseburger King,” on Elliot Street in Harvard Square, and the water-cooler at Micro Center on Memorial Drive.  Yet, there’s also a major side of Cambridge that anyone stopping by Central Square would pick up on immediately – some might term it “seedy,” and, yes, I remember a pawn shop from thirty years ago.  There’s the historic side of Cambridge, the academic, the uber-liberal “People's Republic of Cambridge” and its status as a nuclear-free zone, and the recent corporate software neighborhood between Kendall Square and Lechmere, but I can’t get away from the fact that those are all just “sides” of Cambridge and that it’s a multi-cultural city with serious problems as crime, drugs, and such that doesn’t come out easily in the wash.

     It would not be overreaching to suggest that a significant percentage of Americans have now heard or read about some aspect of the Prof. Gates arrest incident.  The media saturation has been thorough with pundits variously blaming everyone and anyone associated with the incident.  In my opinion, Time magazine has offered the most insightful commentary so far with a mention and explanation of the term “contempt of cop” by Jon M. Shane, an ex-police officer and current professor at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice at The City University of New York (Rochman 2009).  No other explanation, as yet, has been put forth to account for why a Harvard professor would bring up the mother of a Cambridge police officer in conversation.

     Could Prof. Gates have inadvertently uttered words in an idiom usually reserved for his peers?  In his article (Gates 1987, p. 37), “Authority, (White) Power and the (Black) Critic: It's All Greek to Me,” Gates wrote: “But what of the ideology of the black critical text?  And what of our own critical discourse?  In whose voices do we speak?  Have we merely renamed terms received from the White Other?  Just as we must urge that our writers meet of this challenge, we as critics must turn to our own peculiarly black structures of thought and feeling to develop our own language of criticism.  We must do so by turning to the black vernacular, the language we use to speak to each other when no white people are around.  My central argument is this: black people theorize about their art and their lives in the black vernacular.  Unless we turn to the vernacular to ground our theories and modes of reading, we will surely sink in the mire of Nella Larsen’s quicksand, remain alienated in the isolation of Harriet Jacob’s garret, or masked in the stereotype of the Black Other helping Huck Honey to return to the raft again, singing ‘China Gate’ with Nat King Cole under the Da Nang moon, standing with the Incredible Hulk as the monsterous double of mild-mannered yet implicitly racist white people, or reflecting our balded heads in the shining flash of Mr. T’s signifying gold chains.”  Could his reply to a request by a Cambridge police officer of “ya, I’ll speak with your mama outside” have been mere thinking aloud?  Perhaps, but I would allow a reason of mundanity – Gates likely regards himself as a privileged celebrity with an agenda of ethnic (African-American) advancement he believes is beyond reproach.

     Prof. Gates, since his arrest, has repeated a wish that the incident be used as a “profound teaching moment in the history of race relations in America.”  What he teaches his Harvard students must remain none of my concern, yet as his home is somwhat more than one hundred feet away from the Cambridge Rindge and Latin School, a high school committed to working on issues of race and diversity, I can only hope a message which condones or encourages any American, young or old, to respond to a police officer with mention of the police officer’s mother is either rejected or ignored.  The “your mother” remark could be interpreted as many things, however I strongly suggest it was a social spasm on Gates’s part and can teach others little other than even Harvard professors can make mistakes.

The cover for Fantastic, Aug. 1972, 1973's Jeff Jones Spasm!, and The Studio gang from ca. 1975.

As I started eighth grade my parents were briefly separated.  Mom was in Chicago with my older half-brother, Rich, and I was in the “thumb” of Michigan with my dad.  My dad had visited with his folks in Flint, then drove us to pretty much the middle of nowhere and got some quicky job installing telephones in Caro, MI.  Caro will always have a soft spot within, as the first day in town, ca. August 1971, we stopped at a drug store and I convinced my dad to buy me a new Conan paperback with a most awesome Frazetta cover (De Camp and Carter 1971).  We spent several weeks living on the first floor of a converted store-front in Gagetown, MI.  It was there that a priest threw me out of a Catholic cemetery (St. Agatha's) for trespassing and reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula.  My science teacher lived with his girlfriend on the second floor, until my dad talked him into quitting and convinced him to join the US Army for the benefits.  Mom soon came back, said “Middle of nowhere won’t do,” and dad got a teaching job with General Telephone in Owosso, MI, a mid-sized town much more suitable to my mom’s liking.

     Moving to Owosso was great.  Downtown, not far from the junior high school (across the Shiawassee River from Curwood Castle, the one-time home of the Jack London-ish author, James Oliver Curwood), was a wicked delightful newsstand and bookstore owned by a guy who a ran a comic-book store in East Lansing and staffed by a luscious redheaded hippy chick named Lisa (who lived upstairs).  I'm sure I acquired more reading material from that one small bookstore than any other my entire life.  Already, in eighth grade, if asked I would proudly admit that my favorite authors were Robert E. Howard, H. P. Lovecraft, and J. R. R. Tolkien.  The Lancer series of Conan books were about ready to wrap up with the final volume, Conan of Aquilonia, but apparently there were some problems.  One was that the cover art by Frank Frazetta had been stolen from the Lancer offices in New York City, and the other was that ...the new stories by L. Sprague de Camp and Lin Carter, based on the character created by Robert E. Howard, hadn’t been written yet.  One day, I noticed a copy of Fantastic on a shelf sporting a new Conan story and featuring cover artwork by Jeff Jones (De Camp and Carter 1972).  Amusements of youth?  It still quickens the heart after all these years.  I didn’t know at the time, but it’d be more than a few years before Conan of Aquilona would come out (De Camp and Carter 1977).

     Though I was somewhat familiar with Jeff Jones, with his yummy and trippy “Idyl” strip at National Lampoon magazine, I believe I’d noticed some covers for various mystery and romance titles by DC comics, and the Owosso bookstore had a couple of dozen paperback sci-fi titles with cover artwork by Jones.  With the Fantastic Conan cover, I likely pledged some unspoken vow of fealty to Jeffrey Jones.  The next year, an underground comic was released which made me go straight-up amazed at the superb quality of his work – Jeff Jones Spasm!, which featured an ink-wash story called “Spirit of 76" that remains one of my all-time favs ‘til this day (Jones 1973).

     Sure, everyone has an opinion (a couple of my relationships have been ambushed, in part, because the “I studied art in college” women didn’t believe that graphic illustration, ala Norman Rockwell and Frank Frazetta, can rise to the level of being “art”).  Okay, all-time crème de la crème comic-book stories as far as art goes?  First, with no apologies, has to go to Frazetta’s “Werewolf!” story from the first issue of Warren’s Creepy magazine (Ivie and Frazetta 1964).  Second, appealing to the Pre-Raphaelite in all of us, would be Barry Windsor-Smith’s gouache painted story, “The Beguiling,” and its haunting beauty which still makes my knees feel odd in a good way (Windsor-Smith 1983).  Rounding third and heading home, though I’m sorely tempted to include something from Bernie Wrightson, say his way dark interpretation of Howard’s King Kull (Thomas and Wrightson 1971) or his illustrations for Shelley’s Frankenstein (Shelley and Wrightson 1983), I’m going to exercise personal opinion and pick the “Spirit of 76" story by Jeff Jones.  Yeah, after all these years, the brush-work still gets to me...

     An aside–from around 1974 or 1975 to 1978, four comic book artists and graphic illustrators decided to share some loft-space in Manhattan’s Chelsea district and ...take matters to a higher level.  Some have since called them the equivalent of the "Beatles of fantasy illustration."  The four artists were Jeff Jones, Michael Kaluta, Barry Smith and Berni Wrightson (Jones et al. 1979).  Alright, already, so that was an easy one.

     I’ve had signed Jeff Jones material on my walls since ca. 1980.  I’m a fan, what can I say?  Several years back, perhaps in January of 2002, I opted to order a personally hand-watercolored print from Jones for $120 to give as a Valentine’s Day present.  I’d recently ordered yet another signed copy of Jones’s “The Black Rose,” his cover art for the 1970 Avon paperback edition of Roger Zelazny's Nine Princes in Amber, and the turn-around was short and seamless with quality packaging.  However, it was not to be for the colored print.  Over the next couple of years Jones e-mailed me that the money was gone, he couldn’t do anything about it, but to stay in touch and one day he’d try and sort things out.  In fact, I’m still accused of blowing the money and making the story up by a certain female...

     Jeffery Jones, I've since learned, had sex reassignment surgery in 2001, changed her name to Jeffrey Catherine Jones, and had a breakdown shortly afterwards.  In 2004, she appeared at an Atlanta comic-book convention and seemed positive.  She sold new paintings on E-Bay for the last few years at affordable prices, but that practice stopped several months back.  Also, the decade old Jones web-site has been dismantled and rendered all but useless.  There’s no word around what’s up.  I hope she’s okay.  Still, ripping off your fans is, to put it mildly, a social spasm.

     My longstanding posturing of stubbornness and independence has caused problems in certain areas, not the least of which are societal, in that I intentionally stand apart and seldom participate in group functions unless the group involves something I deem cool or interesting.  Well, there’s also my skeptical side which leads me to criticize and comment when I disagree or have something to add to a topic or discussion.  Heath issues?  I certainly don’t take care of myself as I should and it’d be wrong of me to burden society, or any form of public health care, because of wrong decisions I’ve made.  I should have accepted the offer of a visiting nurse.

     I find myself uncomfortable with possible narrow-mindedness.  Prof. Gates commented (Gates 1987, p. 34): “How can the use of literary analysis to explicate the racist social text in which we still find ourselves be anything [ital.] but political?  To be political, however, does not mean that I have to write at the level of diction of a Marvel comic book.  No, my task – as I see it – is to help to guarantee that black and so-called Third-World literature is taught to black and Third World (and white) students by black and Third World (and white) professors in heretofore white mainstream departments of literature and to train university graduate and undergraduate students to think, to read, and even to [ital.] write clearly, helping them to expose false uses of language, fraudulent claims and muddled arguments, propaganda and vicious lies, from all of which our people have suffered just as surely as we have from an economic order in which zeroes and a metaphysical order in which we were absences.  These are the ‘values’ that should be transmitted through black critical theory.”  Why dis Marvel comics?  It’s just mean.   

Bunyan, John.  1680.  The Life and Death of Mr. Badman, Presented to the World in a Familar Dialogue Between Mr. Wiseman and Mr.
.  London: Nathaniel Ponder.  Text reproduced from: Bunyan, John.  1905.  Life and Death of Mr. Badman and The Holy War.
  Edited by John Brown, D.D.  Cambridge: The Univeristy Press.  Available online at:
Davis, Charles T.  1982.  Black is the Color of the Cosmos: Essays on Afro-American Literature and Culture, 1942-1981.  Edited by Henry
  Louis Gates, Jr.; foreword by A. Bartlett Giamatti.  New York: Garland Pub.
De Camp, L. Sprague and Lin Carter.  1971.  Conan the Buccaneer.  New York: Lancer Books.
De Camp, L. Sprague and Lin Carter.  1972.  “The Witch of the Mists.”  Fantastic Science Fiction and Fantasy Stories.  21, 6: 34-57.
  Erroneously listed as "The Witches of the Mists” in the Table of Contents.  The issue also featured artwork by Mike Kaluta (who was doing
  the ERB series Carson of Venus in DC’s Korak, Son of Tarzan), Billy Graham (who was doing Marvel's Luke Cage, Hero for Hire), and
  Dave Cockrum (who was two years away from re-imaging Marvel’s X-Men in 1975's Giant-Size X-Men #1). 
De Camp, L. Sprague and Lin Carter.  1977.  Conan of Aquilonia.  New York: Ace Books.
Gates, Henry Louis, Jr.  1978.  The History and Theory of Afro-American: Literary Criticism, 1773-1831: The Arts, Aesthetic Theory, and the
  Nature of the African
.  Doctoral dissertation, University of Cambridge, 1978.
Gates, Henry Louis, Jr.  1981.  “Introduction: Criticism in De Jungle.”  Black American Literature Forum.  15, 4: 123-127.
Gates, Henry Louis, Jr.  1986.  “Talkin' That Talk.”  Critical Inquiry.  13, 1: 203-210.
Gates, Henry Louis, Jr.  1987.  “Authority, (White) Power and the (Black) Critic: It's All Greek to Me.”  Cultural Critique.  7: 19-46.
Gates, Henry Louis, Jr.  1988.  “In Her Own Write.”  The Threepenny Review.  33: 11-12.
Gates, Henry Louis, Jr. and John Hope Franklin.  2001.  “Race in America: Looking Back, Looking Forward.”  Bulletin of the American
  Academy of Arts and Sciences
.  55, 1: 42-49.
Ivie, Larry and Frank Frazetta.  1964.  “Werewolf!”  Script by Larry Ivie with art by Frank Frazetta.  Creepy.  1: 24-29.  Philadelphia, PA:
  Warren Publications.  Online here.
Jones, Jeff.  1973.  “Spirit of 76.”  Jeff Jones Spasm!  Berkley, CA: Last Gasp Eco Funnies.  Online here.
Murray, Jock.  2001.  “The Captain of the Men of Death: The History of Pneumonia.”  Community-Acquired Pneumonia.  Edited by Thomas J.
  Marrie.  New York: Springer.  See pp. 1-12.
Osler, William. 1905.  The Principles and Practice of Medicine: Designed for the Use of Practitioners and Students of Medicine.  Sixth
  edition (first edition 1892).  New York: D. Appleton and Company.  A further explanation of Osler’s amending of Bunyan is found at a Dakota
  Wesleyan University online reproduction of a 1902 examination paper on Osler’s 1901 edition of his Principles and Practice of Medicine;
Rochman, Bonnie.  2009.  “The Gates Case: When Disorderly Conduct Is a Cop's Judgment Call.”  Time (online edition).  Posted July 25,
  2009.  Accessed July 28, 2009.  Available online at:,8599,1912777,00.html.
Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft and Bernie Wrightson.  1983.  Frankenstein or, the Modern Prometheus.  Illustrations by Bernie Wrightson with
  an introduction by Stephen King.  A Marvel Illustrated Novel.  New York: Marvel Comics.  A second and expanded edition has been
  published by Dark Horse Books in 2008.  Wrightson’s Frankenstein work first appeared in two limited edition portfolios released in 1977 and
  1978.  Online here.
Thomas, Roy.  1970.  “The Skull of Silence.”  Script by Roy Thomas with art by Bernie Wrightson.  Adapted from a short story by Robert E.
  Howard.  Creatures on the Loose.  10: 1-7.  New York: Marvel Comics.  Online here.
Windsor-Smith, Barry.  1983.  “The Beguiling.”  Epic Illustrated.  16: 27-34.  New York: Marvel Comics/Epic Comics.  Online here.
Wilson, Harriet E.  1983.  Our Nig; or, Sketches from the Life of a Free Black, In a Two-Story White House, North. Showing that Slavery's
  Shadows Fall Even There. By "Our Nig"
.  Second edition.  Introduction by Henry Louis Gates, Jr.  New York: Vintage Books.  First edition:
  Anonymous (Mrs. Harriet E. Wilson).  1859. 
Our Nig; or, Sketches from the Life of a Free Black, In a Two-Story White House, North.
  Showing that Slavery's Shadows Fall Even There. By "Our Nig"
Boston, MA: Geo. C. Rand & Avery.

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