R.I.P.: Bob Loveless
“Hey,” says Spence. “Bob Loveless died. Didn’t you do some research on him some time back?”
“Yeah,” says Admin. “When I was writing The Fan. The fan himself was a knife salesman whose father had been a maker of beautiful knives. The two names that kept coming up were Bo Randall and Bob Loveless. Bob Loveless was a real artist, and kind of eccentric. Might have been toothless, as I remember, which is kind of interesting in a vaguely ironic way, considering his vocation.”
“Knives resembling teeth, you mean?”
“That kind of thing.”
Knives resembling teeth? Is that what they’re talking about? Things get kind of strange around here sometimes.
“I think Bob Loveless gave Sports Illustrated a nice quote once, having to do with the enormous prices his knives commanded in the after-market, up to $150,000,” Admin says, digging around in his desk. He pulls out a sheet of paper, with a rough edge, like it was torn from a magazine. Hey! That reminds me of something. Was it in Thereby Hangs A Tail? I almost remember, and then Admin says, “Here it is. He said: ‘The kind of American who acquires a lot of expensive things so that he can show them off to his peer group and thereby acquire more status is the kind of American who makes me puke.'”
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