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Shit, Vonnegut is gone

The big world is lonelier today. So is our little world, where Kurt Vonnegut worked as a PR man for G.E. in the late '40s. He remembered it fondly:

"Believe it or not, GE was a wonderful company to work for, and we had genuine news to report, good news for the world,'' he once said. "I was proud to work for GE. The only reason I left was that I could make more money writing short stories.''

In his honor, let's either quit and write short stories, or dig harder for genuine news in our organizations, good news for the world.

Comments (8)

Eileen:

I vote we all quit and write short stories. Who's in?

Oh, and who wants to work and help us pay our bills?

Funny that you say Vonnegut remembered his PR job "fondly." I heard a news report today that said he "loathed" his days as a PR man.

There is a happy medium between quitting to write short stories and finding good news about our companies to write about. Do what I did and go to work for yourself. Something happened with one of my clients just this week -- something that was reminiscent of the BS that used to happen in former workplaces that reminded me again just what a great decision I've made.

Well, journalists WOULD want to think he loathed the job. If Kurt Vonnegut liked corporate life, why would anyone keep hacking away as a journalist?

Will Daniel:

I teach English composition part time (don't ask me why), and one of my classes just finished studying and writing about the short story, "Harrison Bergeron." Imagine how shocked they will be when they find out the author died this week.

OK, that was tongue in cheek. I bet half the class won't know he's dead and the other half can't remember who wrote the story.

Will

With Hunter Thompson and Vonnegut gone I'd say we're all pretty well screwed.

What are 15-year old boys reading these days? Mostly the screens on their Xbox 360s, I presume. I wonder if there are equivalent literary heroes today. Or are we the last generation to have them?

One more thing on Vonnegut, from Sports Illustrated's brief tribute:

In 1954, Vonnegut--a talented young writer who confessed to know next to nothing about sports--was hired to write for SI, which had yet to begin publishing. One of his first assignments was to write a caption about a racehorse who had jumped the rail at Aqueduct and galloped across the infield. Vonnegut pondered the task, typed one sentence and then walked out of his office, never to return.

The caption: "The horse jumped over the fucking fence."

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