Kurt Vonnegut was the little booger hanging on the up-turned nose of literature. He kept the sci-fi and fantasy genre from getting too one-dimensional, and he helped reel the “literary world” back in from too much self-aggrandizement. For decades his cynical humor and desperate energy pulled at the spindly awkward adolescent us, and gave us something we could claim as our own. He got us to suspend our disbelief and see the same-old same-old... more ›

"I've had a hell of a good time. I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you any different." Such was the off-the-cuff nonchalance and quirky charm that epitomized the inimitable Kurt Vonnegut, who passed away yesterday at the age of 84. With a dazzling career that spanned over half a century, Vonnegut was, to us, the quintessential American man of letters: novelist, essayist, playwright, and, despite having borne witness to the brutalities of World War II, a staunch humanist. Vonnegut crafted lucid, oftentimes absurd narratives that unmasked the horrors of war, satirically railed against the greed and hypocrisy inherent in human nature, and generally took the piss out of the bizarre structures and notions built into what we consider "modern" societies. "Human beings will be happier," said the writer in an interview with Playboy in 1973, "Not when they cure cancer or get to Mars or eliminate racial prejudice or flush Lake Erie, but when they find ways to inhabit primitive communities again. That’s my utopia." Equally as memorable as the messages in his novels were the characters that Vonnegut conjured up. Some of our favorites were Dr Paul Proteus of Player Piano, a rabble-rousing engineer fed up with life in a fully-automated society, and the curmudgeonly old Rabo Karabekian of Bluebeard, a retired artist who'd rather everyone just leave him be. We can only imagine Vonnegut carefully crafting these fascinating and (mostly) likable protagonists, then gleefully plunging them into preposterous or terrifying dystopias and forcing them to fend for themselves. Vonnegut suffered a fall a few weeks ago in his Manhattan apartment, causing extensive damage to his brain. Even then, said his manager, Donald Farber, "He was in good spirits. Every time he spoke with me no matter what the circumstances in the world, he had a funny angle on it even if it wasn't a funny thing." And so it goes.
More:
Kurt Vonnegut dead at 84 (Washington Post)
Works by Vonnegut (Book List)
Vonnegut's Official Website
Interviews with McSweeney's more ›

It's the Saturday Hatha instructor at YogaYoga South, or Orange Hat Bike Messenger guy. It's one of the Lone Star Rollergirls, or your favorite coffee house employee. It's your local secret crush. After spending many fruitless mornings skulking around Whole Foods, trying to meet the elusive "cute red-haired guy who works the (Whole Foods) counter up North," we move on to an entirely different Crush-Out request in the interest of keeping them coming. He's a... more ›

It's the Saturday Hatha instructor at YogaYoga South, or the rocker guy with spikey hair at Walgreens. It's one of the Lone Star Rollergirls, or your favorite downtown gallery owner. more ›