Abstract
In this corner, weighing seven pots of gris-gris gumbo, the challenger, Ishmael Reed. And in that corner, weighing four ex-wives worth of alimony, the champion, Norman Mailer. Ding! The battle's on. Reed comes out swinging a mighty Papa LaBas roundhouse that goes over the head of Mailer, who is crouched and snarling like the Devil. Now Mailer swings an O'Shaughnessy uppercut that misses Reed's chin by an Erzuli hair. Reed counters with an iron-fisted Ogun jab that just grazes Mailer's Jehovah-cocked ear. Look out, now Mailer's really pressing the fight with some fast and flashy Marilyn Monroe footwork, but Reed has-
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