Earth, receive an honored guest.
Irwin Corey’s laid to rest.
I have lost one of my greatest inspirations. He made it to 102, proving the late great George Burns’ observation that very few people die after 100.
The literary world will never forget when Thomas Pynchon sent him to the national Book Award dinner to speak on his behalf and receive the prize for Gravity’s Rainbow. Corey’s rant was one of the alltime masterpieces of performance art and one of the truly epic moments in the history of American literature. You have to imagine all the New York litterati packing Alice Tully Hall in their dinner jackets and red carpet gowns expecting the usual litany of “I’m humbled by your sublime graciousness” and instead getting….this:
It so offended the rectal broomstick brahmans that they revoked Pynchon’s Pulitzer Prize over it:
Ah me. All the instruments agree / the day of his passing was a sad sad day.