Grandpa Munster, Lifelong Anarchist, Died This Week

But by being a vampire might he be reborn to rip open the throat of your local republican? Who will record his passing? Who will write the bibliography on his body of work? Some shit anarchist fuck-zine out of Williamsburg?
Studs Terkel is the only one, yes, and we should leave Studs Terkel alone. The man is old and has given us enough.

Have you been reading your Studs Terkel lately, asshole? No?
Too busy with the Drudge report, down there in Tennessee?
Too busy with the Colbert Report? You forgot about the flag of Catalonia flying. You forgot about the Aspidistra. The man taught you, on the subway, and you forgot his name just now.
You forgot about art after the bit with the planes flying into the buildings. He learned his art beneath planes flying into buildings.
Before the assholes all over the airwaves, there was the struggle, he said. The man made art during the struggle with assholes all over the airwaves. Assholes killing poets and burying them outside soccer fields.
Assholes manipulating railways, assholes bending thought and reason and history
into a brand new word. And the stupid word made law, but for this man skewering it.
For the entirity of his life, and that was the body of his work, the body that he sacrificed, the body that he gave for you and me. Orwell
Without the Animal Farm, Orwell without 1984,
Orwell, a lanky young man striding through Spain, with no year, fighting a war that he believes in.