Dude.

So one of those things I've always assumed without having anything to back it up with, is that I do not like the writers of the Beat Generation. Not really fair of me to make that assumption but still, many of my literature-related assumptions are solid good assumptions, and voila, here is another thing proved quite right.

William Burroughs. Always suspected that I hated him.

Bah.

So guess what I learned today. William Burroughs shot his wife.

In the head.

Because basically he was in Mexico because he was a-running from The Law, and Joan Vollmer was his common-law wife and whatnot, and they were all drunk and he was all blaaaaaaaaaah let's play William Tell that would be SO AWESOME and she was like blaaaaaaaaah that will be amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazing so she put a glass water tumbler on her head and he SHOT HER IN THE HEAD.

IN THE HEAD.

AND SHE DIED.

....Incidentally, I don't know if you've noticed, but the titles of all these June posts have been really terse. I must be terse today.