Was it enough to know that there was a corncob in the barn while Temple Drake was getting raped? Hell no it wasn’t – did it get kicked up her snatch or did it only get whittled into a pipe as she was groped against her wishes? And Faulkner suddenly seemed too squeamish to commit to the idea that she’d been raped at all. These were to be my models for writing? The Canterbury Tales had been assigned to me three times in my various schoolin’ venues and it was comical that none of my teachers ever seemed to notice what a lewd, lowbrow piece of crap that ancient text was.