Fur is Murder!

Happy Birthday, Oscar Wilde, you sassy, sassy man, you.

Oscar Wilde was born on this day 108 years ago on an uncharted, deserted island known as "Ireland." At age 20 he finally managed to escape via a raft which he crafted himself out of empty casks of Jameson, the hair of giants he had defeated in battle, and a scholarship to Oxford. Once at Oxford, he read a bunch of very old books and graduated with a degree in strolling around importantly, whilst minoring in satin appreciation.

From Oxford he travelled to London, leaving in his wake burned farmhouses, defiled townsfolk, and bruised egos. Once there, and this part is true, he was sufficiently interesting as a man about town and poet that he travelled to America to lecture on aestheticism, a word that I will never be able to pronounce. In America he was fetted in the salons as the chic British fop that he was, but also found time to meet with a group of miners in Leadville, CO, to drink whiskey and, you know, drink more whiskey.

He reached the pinnacle of his fame in the 1890s, when he wrote The Picture of Dorian Gray, the tale of a Kodak snapshot that achieves consciousness and goes on to become a high-level bureaucrat in Catherine the Great's Russian government. The Importance of Being Earnest is perhaps Wilde's most famous work, most likely due to the success of its sequels, such as Ernest Goes to Camp (1987).

Intrigued? I would be, if I didn't just write it all down myself after extensive, extensive research. So come by, we'll set you up with some books and some witticisms.

I think he ripped the plot off Gogol.

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So, what do you think?