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Who? Enough, already. Every freaking time I turn on the tv this week, who inundates the airwaves? Hunter S. Thompson. My first response was, �Who?� I shouldn�t have asked. If I hear �gonzo journalism� one more time I think I am going to puke. The only Gonzo who holds any meaning for me is a Muppet. Maybe the guy could turn a phrase. All I get from the news is yet another �tortured artist� who celebrated skeletons that most people would jam in their closets, rode the tidal wave of attention, and finally �let his demons engulf him�. Sad. Sad and pointless. What�s sadder is that most of his works will once again hit the bestseller lists but for the wrong reasons, as hordes of headline-savvy yuppies snatch them off bookstore shelves in a desperate attempt to prove that ooooh, they�re so counter-culturey. Read for image and not content, a pop culture wardrobe accoutrement. Sad. Sad and pointless. No matter how great an author, his legacy will forever bear the asterisk of the tormented soul. An unnecessary exit with a melancholy footnote. Sad. Sad and pointless. I was shuttled through school on a diet of �classic� literature, both prose and poetry by innumerable �tortured artists� who produced weighty tomes and plodding verse and met their self-inflicted ends. For most, my conclusion is the same as GroovyGuru�s: They were driven over the jagged edge of madness by being forced to read their own works. Had I a time machine, I would distribute *Prozac in mass quantities, thus saving the world from suffering many a celebrated arteest. The exception to the �I am an arteest therefore I must off myself� rule? Joseph Conrad. By the time I finished Heart of Darkness, I was ready to do myself in. Conrad lived to a ripe old age. Obviously he never read his books. How do works become great or classic? Some deserve merit, but some must have been picked by the same geniuses that gave Yoko Ono a recording contract. Too much of literature is like sushi; no one really likes it, they just say they do because they heard someone else say that THEY liked it. Give the emperor some clothes already, willya? When the hoohah�s over, maybe I�ll pick up one of Thompson�s works and give it a go, hoping that this time, it�s different. I�ve read very polarized views of his works, and I need to see for myself. For the rest of this week, I�ll be mourning Sandra Dee. |