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With these words, Augustus McCrae, an implacable slacker in the novel Lonesome Dove, rationalizes his preference for a life of cards, whores and whiskey. Then, he embarks upon a perilous, arduous cattle drive across the as-yet-untamed West. Hard damn work, any way you look at it. Granted, he got drunk, gambled and got laid between episodes of hellishly hard work, but it was a delicate balancing act, befitting an amazing fictional character. For this he belongs in the Fictional Wing of the Slackers Hall of Fame.
As someone who endured years of grad school, I am all too familiar with the tension between the urge to work and its opposite, the urge to do not a fucking thing. But not-a-fucking-thing is hard to do. Conversation with other grad students is almost always dreadful, something to be avoided, as it leads, sooner or later, to pitiful confessions about "not getting enough work done," to be followed, if lucky, by another beer or another joint. I'm guessing that graduate school attracts "nerve cases" and turns out head cases. In any event, the author might someday turn his attention to the dreary subject of grad school, a perennial hotbed of slackerism.
Having said that, I would never read a book about such a revolting topic. I will, however, read Tom Lutz' book, thanks to Gary Kamiya's excellent review.
