ninme

It’s been twenty four hours and I just need to point something out.

I really don’t care about Hunter S. Thompson dying. Why does he get to be on Drudge, have a Features slot on FOXnews.com, and general front page treatment on every freaking news outlet all this time later?

I know that ‘literary’ and culturally savvy bloggers like Roger L. Simon might be interested in this, but I haven’t read a word the guy’s written, I saw the movie but never heard of the author, and as far as I can tell he was just another writer who drank so much and did so many drugs in his life time he ended up killing himself, like so many other people with substance abuse problems. So what?

Honestly? The guy sounds like James Joyce on cocaine.

It was the same with Susan Sontag dying. I had never heard of her, even when I read the The Volcano Lover, I certainly didn’t take note of the author as any great genius, and couldn’t be bothered to finish it, and couldn’t give a rat’s ass when she died. I’m sorry she died, but really, it means nothing to me.

It’s just typical of the self-obsessed nature of the press. They care, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us do. Knowing about these people don’t make us any more interested in them, so just stop it.

Btw, I would end with that, but I felt the need to clarify the Volcano Lover point:

I read a lot, but there are three books I have started since the second grade (when my memories solidified) that I have not finished. Just three. One of them I got out of the library last year and read the first chapter, found myself so bored I just returned it. One of them was the autobiography of Emily Carr, Growing Pains which turned so depressing at the end I decided to end it before it got worse, and this precious and brilliant work by Susan Sontag.

Update:

Michelle Malkin, who went nuts on Kid Rock before the Inauguration because of his language, has a big round up of his death on her site. I would not have expected that.