Christopher Hitchens and I were friends for 40 years, plus another five when we were enemies. He took ideas so seriously that if he disagreed with you on a matter that he deemed important, he’d literally throw you in a ditch. It was 1972, the height of our mutual virility. He and I went to a pub to celebrate his most recent intellectual victory over the establishment press. I intimated that sometimes women could be funny on purpose. Even back then, the thought enraged him. Hitchens threw a drink in my face, pressed a lit cigarette into my neck, and hit me over the head with a barstool. The next thing I knew, it was two days later and I was lying hogtied and naked beside the M5. Hitch had already severely damaged my reputation in a vicious essay in the Guardian. But that’s how he operated, and that’s why we loved him.The rest is here.
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Tuesday, December 20, 2011
"I knew Christopher Hitchens better than you"
Wonderful satire by Neal Pollack, in Salon:
Wot, still no comments?
ReplyDeleteIt is indeed wonderful satire - although Chris (or 'Podge', as I called him) would have spat in my face for saying so.