We present for you this evening a movie of death.

Deaths and injuries from the holiday celebrations had exceeded the wildest prophecies, he noticed,

[Last month, Anthony Lane, former boy newspaper editor, a literary scholar, and now dean of American film critics, wrote 6,200 words in The New Yorker describing how] every now and then, one finds a fellow-Keesian. ... We are led ad infinitum: to the Golden Gate, and to the empty Plymouth; to what did or did not happen next, and so to the reflection, as in a rearview mirror, of all that had come before.

Explosion after explosion followed. One looked for the buildings to topple over, to see passersby clutch at their hearts and fall over into the street. The effects of the day's celebration were wherever one looked: the street, caught in the light of the burned-out sunset, resembled some thoroughfare in Hell.

What other hope does life hold out
But the miraculous, the skilled and patient
Execution, the teamwork, all the pain and worry every miracle involves?

We sell them an evening of films. We give them two options. I can present it and be the MC or they can buy our name and present an evening of films as a fundraiser.