Hey Lucky! You are one angry Duck! But you speak much truth. Kerouac was indeed a prize horse's ass in many ways. Jews, women, napalmed Vietnamese -- they all got a pretty rough ride from him. Still, I hate to admit this, but I have fond memories of reading "On the Road" in high school. The first page, where he's talking about wanting to meet people who never say a commonplace thing resonated DEEPLY with the suburban-trapped sidewalk-dweller in me. Even more, the roll of his language appealed to my hormonally caffeinated senses. And yet, you’re also right. It's the same issue that pops up with folks like Tommy Eliot, Fatso Hemingway and too many others to list here. I love their works, but I hate them as people; hell, I often don't even like what they say in their works, even if I do like how they say it. So I’ll close with this thought: Style is shallower than Substance, but it's still got its place. Let's give Jack his due for what he did accomplish, then drop him at the nearest exit for what he didn't. Yours, Dean