Crummy Goddamit.

Like anyone, The Catcher in the Rye had a hold on me in my youth. But at the end of the day, Holden Caulfield is your average Williamsburg hipster in a nouveau-rock art fusion no-bass-included Japanese haiku band; Holden we're fairly certain will simply end up at another private school for fellow rich kids, and in a few years he will look back on his melo-dramatic teen years and laugh. - XMASTIME, 2010

The Catcher in the Rye is celebrating it's 75th anniversary:

Pour out a Scotch and soda — make that a malted milk — for this spry codger of a novel that’s stayed on the dance floor long past when might be expected, leaping over book bans from the right and dodging cancellation from the left. “Catcher” has somehow inspired artists as disparate as John Guare and Guns N’ Roses, its denunciation of phoniness presaging the social-media demand for “authenticity.

It also inspired someone to murder John Lennon, but I don't wanna bring anybody down.

"But Xmastime", you say in the voice of Craig “Ironhead” Heyward from those soap commercials (RIP), "didn't you drop the single greatest truthbomb about Holden Caulfield all the way back in 2016?"

Sigh. Yes I did, faithful readers, YES I did:  

Can someone please write the movie in which we find out Holden Caulfield grows up to be Pete Campbell so I don't have to thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanks.