This brilliant post at thoughtcatalog.com made me laugh out loud (and earn a raised eyebrow from the boss – what? It’s work-related). It’s a scene from an episode of Seinfeld, ostensibly rewritten by Cormac McCarthy. It’s listed as part of a fantasy collection of scripts from popular TV shows that McCarthy had improved with his own interpretations. The writer got McCarthy’s tone and cadence beautifully, and is spot-on in places. My favorite passage:
Kramer had turned on an old radio and a tinny music emoted from its ancient speakerbox and he went to the couch next to Costanza and hooted at the tv, two raucous gibbons who knew of only one god. A stale brick tenement on West 72nd Street on Sunday afternoon, New York, New York. In the year nineteen ninety-six. Seinfeld with his notes at his table, the smell of his clothes priestlike, dry flesh within.The whole thing is definitely worth a read. Marvelous.
When Elaine entered in black and white business suit reminiscent of a Hasid she addressed the unlikely congregation with hellos and they responded each in his own turn, pious stares never wavering from their worship.