Lift tragedy

and do believe any death falls perfectly under the definition of tragedy.

114 people die every minute, it's the regrettable but totally expected result of being alive in the first place. 114 "tragedies" every minute makes the word entirely meaningless. I mean, ok, every second there are 1.90 tragedies occurring. Every second of every day is tragedy, life is tragedy, existence is tragedy. Whatever, Baudelaire. Go smoke a clove and write a bad poem in the rain.
 
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*convulses*

Ok I read the M-W definition of “irregardless” and changed my mind on “tragedy”. They have a freaking FAQ that says “Remember that a definition is not an endorsement of a word’s use”. It’s basically “we hate ourselves for including this but that’s what we have to do so because of you dinguses”.

I get the impression that you are quite learned in literature and language (especially for a Kentuckian)...gatekeeping the original use of “tragedy”, being the only person on this site who’s read David Foster Wallace, etc. Did you major in something literature-y or are you a hobbyist?
 
114 people die every minute, it's the regrettable but totally expected result of being alive in the first place. 114 "tragedies" every minute makes the word entirely meaningless. I mean, ok, every second there are 1.90 tragedies occurring. Every second of every day is tragedy, life is tragedy, existence is tragedy. Whatever, Baudelaire. Go smoke a clove and write a bad poem in the rain.

Dying at the end of a natural life, not tragic. Dying prematurely due to some accident, tragic. What is tragic to you, may not be tragic to someone else.
 
Did you major in something literature-y or are you a hobbyist?

Hah! I majored in being a hobbyist, essentially. Easiest way to explain:


The ultimate education for the discerning gentleperson who wishes to have a nodding acquaintance with everything, but mastery (or even let's say a meaningful, modern level of knowledge) of nothing. We're just hell at a cocktail party, though!
 
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Hah! I majored in being a hobbyist, essentially. Easiest way to explain:


The ultimate education for the discerning gentleperson who wishes to have a nodding acquaintance with everything, but mastery (or even let's say a meaningful, modern level of knowledge) of nothing. We're just hell at a cocktail party, though!

This explains so much!

St John’s was on my short list of places to apply to but I think I decided against it because dumbass 17yr old me thought classical literature sucked and wanted aggressively progressive stuff taught. You think you’re hell at a cocktail party, try hanging out with a geology major who took just enough Central American history, ethnomusicology, and archaeoastronomy to be able to remember the buzz words.
 
I think I decided against it because dumbass 17yr old me thought classical literature sucked and wanted aggressively progressive stuff taught.

Haha, yeah I considered Bard, which was interesting but quite a bit to the left of my uh let's call them temperamental/geographical preferences. Then I *visited* Antioch. Holy Hell. Poor little 18 year old Kentuckistani me was traumatized, may still have PTSD. Where did you wind up?
 
Haha, yeah I considered Bard, which was interesting but quite a bit to the left of my uh let's call them temperamental/geographical preferences. Then I *visited* Antioch. Holy Hell. Poor little 18 year old Kentuckistani me was traumatized, may still have PTSD. Where did you wind up?

A good friend and I randomly (seriously, we didn’t discuss it) arrived at the same final 2, Haverford and Pomona college...we went to the west coast only because they let me bring my beater truck on campus as a freshman. 18yr old logic.

But when I visited Pomona for an overnight, my student host was a flaming gay Latino guy with bright orange hair. Tennessean me was like “whoa”. But that was 1997.
 
I knew a guy who went to Pomona and actually had class with DFW. I'm guessing maybe a little before your time, but I was always a bit jealous of that. Seemed like a really good school (if you're a communist. I keed, I keed). Is Haverford the school that Tartt and Ellis attended? I'm thinking not, but it seems rather similar in my addled mind.
 
And yes, we are essentially just barking.
Nah, The Meaning endures. Not always easy to see or suss out, but it's there. Which is why I am righteously engaging in Jihad against language-abuse. And if you don't think so, I'll put a Jihad on you, too.
Jihad.gif
 
I knew a guy who went to Pomona and actually had class with DFW. I'm guessing maybe a little before your time, but I was always a bit jealous of that. Seemed like a really good school (if you're a communist. I keed, I keed). Is Haverford the school that Tartt and Ellis attended? I'm thinking not, but it seems rather similar in my addled mind.

Pomona was cool because we had our share of really smart far lefties and (fewer) righties. And the dumb ones—like “the angry vegan” who would inspect dining hall food every meal—we just laughed at. Also, David Foster Wallace spent the last 8 or so years of his life teaching creative writing there.

I think Ellis and Tartt went to Bennington in Vermont?
 
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