At 9, he settled a dispute with a pistol. At 13, he lit out for the Amazon jungle.
At 20, he attempted suicide-by-jaguar. Afterward he was apprenticed to a pirate. To please his mother, who did not take kindly to his being a pirate, he briefly managed a mink farm, one of the few truly dull entries on his otherwise crackling résumé, which lately included a career as a professional gambler.
Emphasis mine. The N.Y.T. style guide frowns on emphasis.
What this NYT obit omitted: “The cause of death, the coroner’s report said, was the only thing that could ever have killed him: a single moment of boredom.”
Margalit, if you’re reading this, I can’t wait for your obituary of Noam Chomsky. Not that I wish him harm — just that I can’t think of a single obituary writer better equipped to explain his work.
