Vonnegut was the author of several of my favorite books, the most dear to me being The Sirens of Titan. The back cover of it refers to “a prophetic vision about the purpose of human life,” and I recall thinking when I first picked it up, “Wow, this Vonnegut guy’s got some balls.” And, of course, he did–not only does the book dare to ask the question of the meaning of life, but it answers it as well.
I remember reading some years back how Vonnegut planned to sue the big tobacco companies, because he’d been a chain smoker all of his life and had yet to die as a result. It’s somewhat fitting that in the end, at the age of 84, the cigarettes still didn’t get to him (a lingering injury from a fall did). I hope as he went, he did so like Bokonon from Cat’s Cradle, “thumbing his nose at You Know Who.”
So it goes.