Coming UnHitched

Not since Elizabeth Taylor or Michael Jackson have we seen such a torrent of obituary (& some obitchuary). But for a whiskey-swilling, tobacco-stained scribbler? Who knew Christopher Hitchens was a celebrity of the first rank? Although the Sandwichman never drank with Hitchens, he can say with documented certainty that he drank with someone who has. But who can't?

I used to read Hitchens's Nation column eagerly in the 80s, along with Cockburn's "Beat the Devil." In those days, shit happened and you had to get by reading between the lines in the mainstream media for two weeks until last week's copy of The Nation arrived in the mail to confirm your suspicions.

What I learned from Hitchens was the persuasive power of journalistic impressionism. I once tried to use one of his columns as a source for something I was researching. I had the impression there was substance there, but when I tried to pin down the facts, they weren't there. Just a confident swirl of innuendo, hearsay and conjecture sprinkled with some peripherally relevant facts that were neither controversial nor conclusive with regard to the grave matter in question. Take notes:



The significance of Hitchens passing may have more to do with the fact that he was the last of a dying (no pun intended) breed -- the erudite, iconoclast commentator who kept up with current events so you wouldn't have to. It's not that iconoclasm or erudition as such has disappeared. Instead, it has become generalized, through blogging, and in the process has been deprived of its exchange value.