Burroughs was a lowlife. The operative word is was. Were he alive to benefit from my appreciation of his prose, I’d be a lot more circumspect. But I’m thankful Burroughs is dead and can’t profit from my clicks. And what’s Thanksgiving for if you can’t be thankful silver-tongued scum are dead?
If you feel differently, I wholeheartedly support your choice to do so.
But do not conflate love of the writing of a dead fucker with love of that same dead fucker.
