Poo-tee-weet? YNE1? Rented a tent, a tent, a tent...


Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. is dead. He apparently died from brain injuries sustained while engaged in a slapstick impression of Chevy Chase doing Gerald Ford, followed by Gerald Ford doing Gerald Ford. I will miss not reading new stuff he will never write. So it goes. On the other hand, new releases of his work, like that of Zappa and Bukowski will probably outlast many of you.

The first book of his I ever read of his was Sirens of Titans, followed by a paperback I still have called Utopia 13, which was later released as Player Piano, an American viewpoint on the same themes from which Anthony Burgess developed A Clockwork Orange. I still have my Book of the Month Club hardcover copy of Slaughterhouse Five which was not printed on acid-free paper and is already disintegrating, not from the ideas of the words on the page, but as yet another result of crass consumerism.

I never met KV or corresponded with him, although Kilgore Trout and I remain close friends, having both been district managers for local daily newspapers instead of Audi salesmen.

Kurt's Web site today is pure simple beauty, and you should visit, if you have the chance, to understand where everyone is heading. I've always been tempted to snatch the asshole favicon for this site, and one day I probably will. This bird has flown.

Posted: Thu - April 12, 2007 at 05:22 PM          
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