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Bad Purchase posted:which of his works will his estate sell to netflix first? He was working on adapting Blood Meridian. I read he was working on it with his son, so I'm assuming it will continue now that he's gone. Should be interesting to see 
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Jun 13, 2023 23:52
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see this post days lost to the trump thread which many say never sleeps and some say will never die
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Jun 14, 2023 00:20
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He was the George RR Martin of our time
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Jun 14, 2023 00:31
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Ridiculous, McCarthy never liked football
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Jun 14, 2023 00:32
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The dude who made all the spices?
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Jun 14, 2023 00:33
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hot sauce pee hole posted:He was working on adapting Blood Meridian. I read he was working on it with his son, so I'm assuming it will continue now that he's gone. Should be interesting to see Good luck to them. Production companies have tried to turn it into a movie on multiple occasions and they always run into some kind of creative wall where they can't translate it into film.
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Jun 14, 2023 00:34
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Dead Meridian
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Jun 14, 2023 00:35
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Vakal posted:The man never met a punctuation mark that he didn't hate. a true poster
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Jun 14, 2023 00:40
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No Pulse for Old Man
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Jun 14, 2023 00:41
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Smugworth posted:He was the George RR Martin of our time wow, thank you for putting it in terms i can understand devastating loss
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Jun 14, 2023 00:53
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He wrote some good poo poo  Think I’ll whip out The Road and No Country for Old Men (book and movie) in memoriam.
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Jun 14, 2023 00:55
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Me? Well I'll go suck his dead cock. In memoriam. rip tho for real
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Jun 14, 2023 01:50
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Just realized I never finished Suttree
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Jun 14, 2023 01:53
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I couldn't get into Blood Meridian and felt like a dummy. Maybe I'll try again another day.
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Jun 14, 2023 01:53
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Smugworth posted:Just realized I never finished Suttree I didn’t finish it either. I’m not sure that I want to. It just made me feel sad and despondent. I’m sure that’s what they author was going for, so, well done, Mr. McCarthy.
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Jun 14, 2023 01:57
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Who
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Jun 14, 2023 01:58
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Kinda name is cormac anyway
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Jun 14, 2023 02:01
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Milo and POTUS posted:Kinda name is cormac anyway It's short for McCormack
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Jun 14, 2023 02:10
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That's right. Dead tired of this mortal coil.
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Jun 14, 2023 02:12
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Big Mouth Billy Basshole posted:I couldn't get into Blood Meridian and felt like a dummy. Maybe I'll try again another day. Blood Meridian got a lot more enjoyable for me when I stopped looking up all the words and references I didn't know and just went with it.
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Jun 14, 2023 02:37
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Neat.
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Jun 14, 2023 02:39
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He'll never be the head of a major corporation.
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Jun 14, 2023 03:02
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the best part of blood meridian is when judge holden and the glanton boys piss on stuff to make gunpowder
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Jun 14, 2023 03:11
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Maybe today is the day then, to finally read those books but maybe not
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Jun 14, 2023 03:19
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I'm giving a free !pod to whomever makes the most references to how Cormack McCarthy's lack of punctuation irritated their developmental disability
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Jun 14, 2023 03:26
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Gene Hackman retains his crown as oldest and most decrepit celebrity living in Santa Fe RIP to a real one, though, I really like Cormac
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Jun 14, 2023 04:06
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MrQwerty posted:Gene Hackman retains his crown as oldest and most decrepit celebrity living in Santa Fe Ftfy
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Jun 14, 2023 04:08
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i only read the "border" trilogy. all the pretty horses, the crossing, cities of the plain. i thought the first two were really good. the third one not so much. i keep meaning to try his more out there speculative fiction stuff that he seems to be more well known for, but the idea of it just doesnt grab me so much.
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Jun 14, 2023 04:13
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I just finished Blood Meridian last night. He said to himself, Caesar Saladin has finally read it, my work here is done and I can leave in peace.
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Jun 14, 2023 04:58
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Bummer. Suttree and blood meridian are dope. Guess it's time to read the passenger now. Rips. I hope the blood meridian adaptation gets completed. Really interested to see how they handle the judge.
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Jun 14, 2023 05:13
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Slip posted:Bummer. Suttree and blood meridian are dope. Guess it's time to read the passenger now. Rips. i'm interested in how they handle the part where there are a bunch of babies impaled on a tree, it'd be cowardly to leave that out
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Jun 14, 2023 05:17
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Dang, i really liked his cheesy taco seasoning. RIP in peace
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Jun 14, 2023 05:23
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didnt he have a book that wasnt supposed to be published until 2 years after his death
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Jun 14, 2023 05:35
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how has this impacted his publishers stock price. this is important
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Jun 14, 2023 06:10
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rodbeard posted:He'll never be the head of a major corporation.
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Jun 14, 2023 06:15
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git apologist posted:how has this impacted his publishers stock price. this is important Kindle VR versions incoming
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Jun 14, 2023 06:49
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A friend told me this today and it really bummed me out. Still have Stella Maris and The Passenger sitting on my nightstand, unread. I figured these would be the last two novels of his before his death, but now that it’s come it’s kind of sad that after I finish these I won’t have another to look forward to. RIP to a real one. Two pairs of brogans went along the rows. You aint goin to believe this. Knowin you for a born liar I most probably wont. Somebody has been fuckin my watermelons. What? I said somebody has been … No. No. Hell no. drat you if you aint got a warped mind. I’m tellin you … “I dont want to hear it. Looky here. And here. They went along the outer row of the melonpatch. He stopped to nudge a melon with his toe. Yellowjackets snarled in the seepage. Some were ruined a good time past and lay soft with rot, wrinkled with imminent collapse. It does look like it, dont it? I’m tellin ye I seen him. I didnt know what the hell was goin on when he dropped his drawers. Then when I seen what he was up to I still didnt believe it. But yonder they lay. What do you aim to do? Hell, I dont know. It’s about too late to do anything. He’s drat near screwed the whole patch. I dont see why he couldnt of stuck to just one. Or a few. Well, I guess he takes himself for a lover. Sort of like a sailor in a whorehouse. I reckon what it was he didnt take to the idea of gettin bit on the head of his pecker by one of them waspers. I suppose he showed good judgment there. What was he, just a young feller? I dont know about how young he was but he was as active a feller as I’ve seen in a good while. Well. I dont reckon he’ll be back. I dont know. A man fast as he is ought not to be qualmy about goin anywheres he took a notion. To steal or whatever. What if he does come back? I’ll catch him if he does. And then what? Well. I dont know. Be kindly embarrassin now I think about it. I’d get some work out of him is what I’d do. Ought to, I reckon. I dont know. You reckon to call the sheriff? And tell him what? They were walking slowly along the rows. It’s just the damndest thing I ever heard of. Aint it you? What are you grinnin at? It aint funny. A thing like that. To me it aint. Never forget the moonlight melon mounter
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Jun 14, 2023 07:00
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Smugworth posted:He was the George RR Martin of our time I know we're all supposed to be flippant, but you don't need to be that mean to McCarthy. Shame he's no longer with us. His stuff was uniquely written but also good. For some completely off the wall reason, I keep associating his writing with Hillary Mantel's style.
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Jun 14, 2023 07:03
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Danger posted:He had a small cardboard suitcase and he came out of the weeds and set it on the edge of the road and straightened up and began combing his hair. He looked about his appearance, propping one foot on the case and bending to scrape beggarlice from his trousers with his thumbnail. New trousers of tan chino. A new shirt open at the neck. His face and arms were suntanned and his hair crudely bartered and he wore cheap new brown leather shoes the toes of which he dusted, one, the other, against the back of his trouserlegs. He looked like someone just out of the army or jail. A car came down the highway and he gestured at it with his thumb and it went on. Traffic was slow along the road and he was there a long time. It was very hot. You could see his skin through the new shirt. Across the road a construction gang was at work and he watched them. A backhoe was dragging out a ditch and a caterpillar was going along the bank with mounds of pale clay shaling across its canted blade. Carpenters were hammering up forms and a cement truck waited on with its drum slowly clanking. He watched this industry accomplish itself in the hot afternoon. Downwind light ocher dust had sifted all along the greening roadside foliage and in the quiet midafternoon the call of a long sad trainhorn floated over the lonely countryside. A boy was going along the works with a pail and he leaned to each, ladling out water in a tin dipper. He saw hands come up from below the rim of the pit in parched supplication. When all these had been attended the boy came down along the edge of the ditch and handed up the dipper to the backhoe operator. Suttree saw him take it and tilt his head and drink and flick the last drops toward the earth and lean down and restore the dipper to the watercarrier. They nodded to each other and the boy turned and looked toward the road. Then he was coming down across the clay and over the ruts and laddered tracks of machinery. His dusty boots left prints across the black macadam and he came up to him where he stood by the roadside and swung the bucket around and brought the dipper up all bright and dripping and offered it. Suttree could see the water beading coldly on the tin and running in tiny rivulets and drops that steamed on the road where they fell. He could see the pale gold hair that lay along the sunburned arms of the waterbearer like new wheat and he beheld himself in wells of smoking cobalt, twinned and dark and deep in child’s eyes, blue eyes with no bottoms like the sea. He took the dipper and drank and gave it back. The boy dropped it into the bucket. Suttree wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Thanks, he said. The boy smiled and stepped back. A car had stopped for him, he’d not lifted a hand. Let’s go, said the driver. Hello, he’d said, climbing in, shutting the door, his suitcase between his knees. Then they were moving. Out across the land the lightwires and roadrails were going and the telephone lines with voices shuttling on like souls. Behind him the city lay smoking, the sad purlieus of the dead immured with the bones of friends and forebears. Off to the right side the white concrete of the expressway gleamed in the sun where the ramp curved out into empty air and hung truncate with iron rods bristling among the vectors of nowhere. When he looked back the waterboy was gone. An enormous lank hound had come out of the meadow by the river like a hound from the depths and was sniffing at the spot where Suttree had stood. Somewhere in the gray wood by the river is the huntsman and in the brooming corn and in the castellated press of cities. His work lies all wheres and his hounds tire not. I have seen them in a dream, slaverous and wild and their eyes crazed with ravening for souls in this world. Fly them.
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Jun 14, 2023 07:40
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The Counselor was bad.
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Jun 14, 2023 07:41
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