Heartland

Inspired by the moniker of our newest member but one, I had a frighteningly original thought in my enormous noggin:

If Eugene O'Neill and Arthur Miller were to have a fist fight, which one would ultimately prove victorious as the most depressing American playwright ever? I swear, it was as if the trials and tribulations of the twentieth century existed merely to provide these Oedipal misbegottens ammunition with which to cannon their mothers.

I'm still deciding whether marrying Marilyn Monroe counts as points for or against A.M. I'm leaning toward against.

I'd plump for Miller myself. Marylin helped me to that decision...

Miller. Although I should thank him, really, as Death of a Salesman helped me to realise the world is a sick, sad place. More depressing than ten Morrisey albums...

I'd have to put my money on O'Neill. He'd probably slap like a girl but I doubt he'd have qualms against hitting below the belt.

Unless, of course, Arthur tag-teams with Ms Monroe. Then I might have to re-evaluate.

Hrm...Arthur and Marilyn in one corner, Eugene and his dead mother in the other. Tough call. It'd be like Ultimate Fighting Championship with out the fighting. Or the ultimate.