Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

misfits, the neurotics, the daydreamers, the unrealists, the--in short--fuckups who form a significant minority in ourculture, witness what happened November twenty-second,1963, at Dallas!" Well, that took the wind out of those sails.He absolutely shrank into his chair, contracted before myeyes. The huge open face shut tight against my imperiousgaze. Frankly I can think of no pleasure greater than toapproach an open face and swiftly say whatever needs tobe said to shut it. Myron disapproved of this trait in me but Ibelieved then, as I do now, that if one is right, the unsayablemust be said, and the faces that I temporarily shut will, inthe long run, be better faces for the exercise. Buck did notagree. "These boys and girls are a crosssection of theyouth of this country, no better, no worse. What they havegot that is unusual and which may disqualify them fromattending your Business School at Harvard is theoverwhelming desire to be in show business, to have theirnames and faces known to all the world, to see themselvesbeloved by strangers, and that, believe me, is the only trulygratifying life any human can have, once they get the bug,that is, like I did, and like they have." "My dear Buck," Iaddressed him warmly, a husky Jean Arthur note to myvoice, "you are unusual. Unique. You were--are--a star. Youwere--and through the reruns of your old movies on TV, youstill are, permanently--beloved. Long after these twobodies, yours and mine, have gone to dust and this room isgone, and these boys and girls have all grown old and diedand their descendants come and gone, you will live. BuckLoner, the Singin' Shootin' Radio Cowboy, astride Sporko,