Primordial Beat: Other Howls, Other Loons

Edgar Allan Poe's mockery of an O obsessed journalist in his story X-ing a Paragrab set a driving rhythm for the cool future of fringe lit.

"So ho, John! how now? Told you so, you know. Don't crow, another time, before you 're out of the woods! Does your mother know you 're out? Oh, no, no! — so go home at once, now, John, to your odious old woods of Concord! Go home to your woods, old owl, — go! You won't? Oh, poh, poh, John, don't do so! You 've got to go, you know! So go at once, and don't go slow; for nobody owns you here, you know. Oh, John, John, if you don't go you 're no homo — no! You 're only a fowl, an owl; a cow, a sow; a doll, a poll; a poor, old, good-for-nothing-to-nobody, log, dog, hog, or frog, come out of a Concord bog. Cool, now — cool! Do be cool, you fool! None of your crowing, old cock! Don't frown so — don't! Don't hollo, nor howl, nor growl, nor bow-wow-wow! Good Lord, John, how you do look! Told you so, you know — but stop rolling your goose of an old poll about so, and go and drown your sorrows in a bowl!"