Fates Worse Than Death

Kurt Vonnegut died today evening and I think we lost an engine that kept the humming of american literature as it were. I hope your soul rests in peace. One of his last poems was this which is apt to reconsider (I told you Mr. Vonnegut that those Brown and Williamson fellas will get you albeit through the brain damage)

The crucified planet Earth,

should it find a voice

and a sense of irony,

might now well say

of our abuse of it,

"Forgive them, Father,

They know not what they do."


The irony would be

that we know what

we are doing.


When the last living thing

has died on account of us,

how poetical it would be

if Earth could say,

in a voice floating up

perhaps

from the floor

of the Grand Canyon,

“It is done.”

People did not like it here.

- Kurt Vonnegut