Good Evening, Captain Hornblower

Hear no evil

See no evil

Talkin' no bullshit.

Thank you, Adam Yauch.

Sometimes when someone dies way too young, I wonder... Did they know? And is that why they packed so very much into their life so early?

It's something that you tell yourself as brain comfort. It almost helps to make sense of something that doesn't make sense, if that makes sense.

If Adam Yauch frontloaded his life's work so intensely, perhaps it makes his death somehow... deathless?

Just a little bit?

These are the things you try to think about, to not feel sad.

But you still feel so, so sad.

I want to thank Adam Yauch for setting an example of style, maybe more than anything else. Just straight up style.

It's the joint.

If you can feel what I'm feeling then it's a musical masterpiece

But if you can hear what I'm dealing with then that's cool at least

What's running through my mind comes through in my walk

True feelings are shown from the way that I talk

And this is me, y'all. I emcee, y'all

My name is M.C.A. and I still do what I please.

Love,

Kate


PS: As a lesson in style, Exhibit A: A letter he wrote to the New York Times after a bad review of his film "Ch-Check it Out."

To the Editor:

I had the great pleasure of reading your unsolicited critique of the "Ch-Check It Out" music video ["Licensed to Stand Still" by Stephanie Zacharek, May 16]. It took some time to get to me, as it had to be curried (sp?) on goatback through the fjords of my homeland, the Oppenzell. And in the process the goat died, and then I had to give the mailman one of my goats, so remember, you owe me a goat.

Anyway, that video is big time good. Pauline Kael is spinning over in her grave. My film technique is clearly too advanced for your small way of looking at it. Someday you will be yelling out to the streets below your windows: "He is the chancellor of all the big ones! I love his genius! I am the most his close personal friend!"

You journalists are ever lying. I remember people like you laughing at me at the university, and now they are all eating off of my feet. You make this same unkind laughter at the Jerry Lewis for his Das Verruckte Professor and now look, he is respected as a French-clown. And you so-call New York Times smarties are giving love to the U2 because they are dressing as the Amish and singing songs about America? (Must I dress as the Leprechaun to sing songs about Ireland so that you will love me? You know the point I make here is true!)

In concluding, "Ch-Check It Out" is the always best music film and you will be realizing this too far passing. As ever I now wrap my dead goat carcass in the soiled New York Times — and you are not forgetting to buy me a replacement! Please send that one more goat to me now!

NATHANIAL HORNBLOWER

Manhattan