Alas, Poor Yorick! David Foster Wallace Is Dead!

"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times..."

The author of Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace apparently hanged himself Friday, September 12, 2008. The first policeman on the scene reported that Wallace's dead hand was still clutching a half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey.

"Yorick," I used to say, "If you ever stick your head in that metaphysical microwave oven, I'll try to achieve a fleeting notoriety by writing an absurd obituary!"

"Hamlet, you unscrupulous idiopath," Himself would reply, "When I go, I'll take you with me! But now it's time for another game of horsie."

Leaving half a bottle of Wild Turkey for the cops was a typically kind gesture by our dear old clown. "Whoever finds me will probably need a drink," as Himself would say...

[Verbatim transcript]

Yorick: Taint not thy mind... (inaudible)

Hamlet: (inaudible)

Yorick: (inaudible)

First Grave-digger (inaudible)

[Verbatim transcript ends]