So, everybody's kinda bummed about David Foster Wallace's death. He was an amazing writer; I'll give you that.
I just can't bring myself to give a shit. I feel nothing about his death.
He and I were at Illinois State at the same time. I remember him as a manipulative bastard who made all the young girls cry (present company excluded)--not the kind of professor I could muster respect for, and he left ISU to work with "more serious students."
I'm sorry for his loved ones and the literary world, but I won't miss him.