Yesterday the world received the news that author Harlan Ellison died. Depending on who you are and particularly your age you are likely to have wildly divergent feelings about the man’s passing.

He lived a provocative life rarely keeping his tongue or in some cases his hands to himself. I think he was a tremendously talent artist but a flawed individual and a perfect example and warning to people to never confuse the art with the artist.  His writing is powerful stuff and he composed with a ‘take no prisoners’ gusto to what he saw as truth. From The Outer Limits, Star Trek, to Babylon 5 and I have No Mouth and I Must Scream; he left an indelible mark on speculative fiction.

I met him on one occasion but we were not acquaintances. It was at a room party for a Chicago bid to host the WorldCon. One fan, holding a hotdog from the party’s offerings, commented that these were good hotdogs. Harlan reached over, and with his fingers plucked the sausage from the bun, commented that the hotdogs were crap, and then replaced it back into the man’s bun.

Undiluted opinions served without consideration for your feelings, wrap it up in a towering talent and I think you’ll get fairly close to who Harlan seemed to be.