I learned from Blogickal this morning that Robert Anton Wilson’s body has died. (I am in no position to say anything difinitive about his spirit.) He lived his life as an iconoclast — which is not a necessarily unusual thing in this age, but it is rare for someone to do it with such wit, skill, and deep, deep intelligence. In the last fifteen years or so, he’s become a sort of “old sage” to the community (no doubt, he said, because his hair finally turned white). Those of you who read me with any regularity know that he’s been a major influence on my own thinking. More than that: in some of my darkest times, he has been a light when all other lights failed.
Bob, thank you! You were always the morning star. If your light has dimmed, it can only be because the sun is rising at last.