Month: July 2018

Encomium for an Unrepentant Harlequin

He is gone, right?

Harlan Ellison is dead?

Really dead?

He can’t be.

He must be. It’s been more than two weeks now and not a sound from him. Not a peep, not a whisper, nothing. I was hoping that like Mark Twain, P.T. Barnum and Bertrand Russell (and if you were to splice the DNA of all three men together, the resulting chimera would doubtless turn out to be much like Ellison), he was secretly reading his premature obituaries to see how he would really be remembered. But there have been none of the outraged screams we certainly would have heard had he been just joshing with us. Continue reading “Encomium for an Unrepentant Harlequin”