When John Kaye sent this report it made me realize that two of my great literary touchstones — Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Tristram Shandy — have much more in common than I had ever noticed. They are both colossal failures of mission, spectacular performances of the art of being sidetracked, of being shanghaied by errant attention, or, perhaps, perfect examples of the way art is, at its best, a perversion, a turning away from more straightforward intentions. This piece was commissioned elsewhere to be a brief reminiscence of a weekend in New Orleans. We prefer this Shandean, heavyweight version. — Tom Lutz
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(via Los Angeles Review of Books)
Weird: I just came across this yesterday. Good post.
The self loathing and worthlessness you feel post McChicken is never worse than when the “ingredients” lay siege to your intestines.