gently singing "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" and a deep, affable,
Western-accented voice--Sam Elliot's, perhaps:
A way out west there was a fella,
fella I want to tell you about, fella
by the name of Jeff Lebowski. At
least, that was the handle his lovin'
parents gave him, but he never had
much use for it himself. This
Now, Dude, that's a name no one would
self-apply where I come from. But
that didn't make a whole lot of sense
lived, like- wise. But then again,
maybe that's why I found the place
They call Los Angeles the City of
Angels. I didn't find it to be that
some nice folks there. 'Course, I
can't say I seen London, and I never
been to France, and I ain't never
the fella says. But I'll tell you
wal, I guess I seen somethin' ever'
bit as stupefyin' as ya'd see in any
too, so I can die with a smile on my
face without feelin' like the good
Lord gypped me.
It is late, the supermarket all but deserted. We are tracking
dairy case. He is the Dude. His rumpled look and relaxed
just about the time of our conflict
with Sad'm and the Eye-rackies. I
only mention it 'cause some- times
there's a man--I won't say a hee-ro,
'cause what's a hee-ro?--but sometimes
there's a man.
And I'm talkin' about the Dude here--
sometimes there's a man who, wal,
he's the man for his time'n place,
he fits right in there--and that's
the Dude, in Los Angeles.
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