A GREAT deal of pretentious rubbish has been written about Gianni Versace since his murder last week. His brutal slaying on the doorstep of his own house was, to be sure, a shocking and tragic thing, a terrible blow to his family and all those his life had touched. It has all sorts of dismaying implications for our culture. And it will no doubt darken the reputation of this country in general-and Miami in particular-as places where no one is safe from men with guns.
But this is no excuse for some of the hyperbole that has bubbled up in the media. The last two weeks also saw the deaths of Arthur Liman, François Furet, and Jimmy Stewart-as well as many others who could be said to have made far greater contributions to the common weal than Gianni Versace. Of course Versace was relatively young. And he was also murdered, and even the best-ordered societies have a morbid fascination with murder.




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