Before he was known as a major American writer and the pioneer of the Beat Generation, Jack Kerouac was first known to be a football star. Of French-Canadian descent, Kerouac was born March 12,1922 in Massachusetts. One of Kerouac’s favorite pastimes was playing football. He started training and playing football in 1935 when he was just 13 years old.
In high school, he played as a running back in Lowell, became known as a football star player, and thereby earned scholarship from Columbia University in 1939 right after graduating.
In the university, during his first year, Kerouac gave his full effort to improving his gameplays; however, his coach Lou Little stopped him from pushing through when Kerouac suffered from a leg injury in a play.
The injury cost his scholarship, and caused him to drop out from the university. His writing career, on the other hand, flourished in the 1940′s. During World War II, Kerouac served shortly in the Navy.
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”
there’s going to be two hits: you hitting him and him hitting the floor. please fight this man. he deserves it. he’ll be too drunk to fight back. knock some sense into him.
ernest hemingway; who wins:no one
he’ll come at you with brute force, and he won’t feel your punches being entirely numbed by liquor. you’ll both fight it out for some minutes before both falling back and arguing who won. even if you definitely did win, he’ll say he won anyway. it’s not worth it. don’t fight hemingway. he’s a prick.
oscar wilde; who wins: him
you won’t necessarily fight physically. you’ll stand there dumbfounded as he rips you apart with poetic sass. you might be able to turn the fight around and grab the upper hand by appealing to his narcissism, but honestly, it’s not worth it. he’ll destroy you with his wit.
edgar allan poe; who wins: no one
why would you want to fight this poor man? he’s so sad and miserable. leave him alone. maybe punch him once for marrying his 13 year old cousin. he does kind of deserve a black eye for that. that’s pretty creepy. but don’t pick a fight, just let him wallow in his melancholy.
chuck palahniuk; who wins: him
it’s not a good idea to fight the man who created fight club. he’ll beat you to a pulp without the slightest emotion and you’ll have to listen to him drone on about consumerism coming from a man who’s made a lot of money off selling products. you’ll wish he’d let you slip into unconsciousness, but he knows how to beat you without killing you.
jack kerouac; who wins: you
please beat the pretentiousness out of him. he won’t fight back but will instead give you a spiel about being in love with life and how you wouldn’t be fighting him if you just looked up at the stars more often. you’ll easily defeat him.
“The whole universe melting and falling down, the skies all jumbled and soft, all blurred and transcendental with milky light, all immortal, all sacrificial and sighing, all too impossible to keep and bear, so beautiful and so sad.”