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Kurt Vonnegut Dead at 84


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Yeah, and for some reason I feel bad about it now. Started it Monday and got distracted with other things. I'll certainly finish it tonight.

Just giving you guff. :lol I love that book dearly. It was my first Vonnegut.

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Just giving you guff. :lol I love that book dearly. It was my first Vonnegut.

No problem. Monday it was just a book. This morning I'm lying in bed and hear he's dead and it was no longer just a book. It felt very odd and I can't say why.

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he's one of my all time favorit authors. in my freshman year of college, he was all that I read in my spare time. God Bless you Mr. Vonnegut :cheekkiss

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So it Goes.

 

The most important thing I learned on Tralfamadore was that when a person dies he only appears to die. He is still very much alive in the past, so it is very silly for people to cry at his funeral. All moments, past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist.

-Slaughterhouse Five

 

"When Hemingway killed himself he put a period at the end of his life; old age is more like a semicolon," Vonnegut told The Associated Press in 2005.

 

"My father, like Hemingway, was a gun nut and was very unhappy late in life. But he was proud of not committing suicide. And I'll do the same, so as not to set a bad example for my children."

 

 

Kurt's work was awesome

 

Everthing was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt

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Timequake has two passages that seem appropriate here.

 

Our last conversation was intimate. Jane asked me, as though I

knew, what would determine the exact moment of her death. She may have

felt like a character in a book by me. In a sense she was. During our

twenty-two years of marriage, I had decided where we were going next, to

Chicago, to Schenectady, to Cape Cod. It was my work that determined what

we did next. She never had a job. Raising six kids was enough for her.

 

I told her on the telephone that a sunburned, raffish, bored but

not unhappy ten-year-old boy, whom we did not know, would be standing on

the gravel slope of the boat-launching ramp at the foot of Scudder's Lane.

He would gaze out at nothing in particular, birds, boats, or whatever, in

the harbor of Barnstable, Cape Cod. At the head of Scudder's Lane, on

Route 6A, one-tenth of a mile from the boat-launching ramp, is the big old

house where we cared for our son and two daughters and three sons of my

sister's until they were grownups. Our daughter Edith and her builder

husband, John Squibb, and their small sons, Will and Buck, live there now.

 

I told Jane that this boy, with nothing better to do, would pick

up a stone, as boys will. He would arc it over the harbor. When the stone

hit the water, she would die.

 

"At ten o'clock the old, long out-of-print science fiction writer announced it was his bedtime. There was one last thing he wanted to say to us, to his family. Like a magician seeking a volunteer from the audience, he asked someone to stand beside him and do what he said. I held up my hand. "Me, please, me,"I said.

 

The crowd fell quiet as I took my place to his right.

 

"The universe has expanded so enormously," he said, "with the exception of the minor glitch it put us through, that light is no longer fast enough to make any trips worth taking in even the most unreasonable lengths of time. Once the fastest thing possible, they say, light now belongs in the graveyard of history like the Pony Express.

 

"I now ask this human being brave enough to stand next to me to pick two twinkling points of obsolete light in the sky above us. It doesn

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See you later, Kurt Vonnegut.

My dad met him on the Cape in the 70s, had him sign a copy of Slaughterhouse. Dad said he was kind and took his time, and seemed genuinely interested in my Dad's thoughts on his writing.

Breakfast of Champions is the best.

Granfaloonery. Drawings of assholes.

Galapagos is the best.

Vonnegut in a bar spying on his own character.

Maybe I'll see him on an airplane someday. Bye.

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Oh man. This digs deep. I'm proud to say he was a product of the area I live in.

Slaughterhouse 5 is one of the greatest books ever. I had not realized until the story running in the Trib today that he had also worked at the City News Bureau here in Chicago for awhile. Many of the greats did time at City News, which is also long gone. RIP to Kurt.. he apparently tried to take his own life a couple decades ago.

 

LouieB

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Here's something awesome that he once said that is sadly apropos now:

 

"I am, incidentally, Honorary President of the American Humanist Association, having succeeded the late, great science fiction writer Isaac Asimov in that totally functionless capacity. We had a memorial service for Isaac a few years back, and I spoke and said at one point, 'Isaac is up in heaven now.' It was the funniest thing I could have said to an audience of humanists. I rolled them in the aisles. It was several minutes before order could be restored. And if I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, 'Kurt is up in heaven now.' That's my favorite joke."

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I'd forgotten all about that epitaph. Glad to see it posted on wilcoworld ... way cool.

He was unique, and one of my favorites, as I mentioned on here a while back. He and Hunter Thompson dominated my teens and thoroughly corrupted me, and for that, I thank them. :cheers

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sad sad news.

 

poo tee weet.

 

:(

 

 

People...he was 84.

 

Rejoice in his life...we all end up in the same place. Some of us just have a more interesting journey.

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