Lamester

[…]: if free from all ſinnes mortall, wounding and waſting the conſcience; elſe, as thoſe Lameſters at the poole of Betheſda, they are too ulcerous, and full of ſores, to be entertained by this King:[…]

Devoted to the woman of his choice; and proud that by her, he—once a despised and laughter moving lamester—should have been chosen above all others who strove for her hand;

Hannah has gone to sleep now. It will seem like old times—when I was a little thing—to have her with me in my room again. I said so to her a little while ago, and she made a very doleful “We’re a poor pair of lamesters now, Katie,—very different from what we were then.” Ah Hannah! if I had nothing the matter with me but a sprain, that could be cured in a few weeks, I don’t think I should mind it much.

“I am getting too old to tell stories,” said Marcelline, half to herself, half to Hugh, who was following his cousin more slowly. He stopped for a moment. “Too old?” he repeated. “Yes, Monsieur Chéri, too old,” the nurse replied. “The thoughts do not come so quickly as they once did, and the words, too, hobble along like lamesters on crutches.”

The point seems to be that the crippled “duck” is (like the animal) shunned by the healthier ducks, who have things to do and places to fly without being dragged down by lamesters.

Jack Kerouac, standing up there and improvising poems to jazz, was a lousy poet. Not as bad as these guys, of course, but lousy enough. Lamesters attract hordes of imitators: it’s much easier to imitate a flamboyant asshole, bully who gets by, essentially, on intimidating others, than to take the time to really learn what an art is, to really redefine an art for yourself, to learn a craft and find/create a voice. So you ask what I want: I want poetry to be brilliantly written[…]

But this gig might be a tad more complicated than he had figured. They had invited a bunch of their friends, lamesters of all kinds. People who looked seven-eighths dead. “Johnny, we’d like to introduce you to the people who are known as the council.[…]”

hey, you must be the two lamesters the old broad who gave me this kewl gun warned me about.