I think we can graduate into an age in which we can look at what these beat writers were doing. Is there a an available eye of timeless literary appreciation that can supersede the nostalgic heartbeat for the era? Sorry boys, much love and respect for what you had, what you created, but this one in particular reads as an inside joke to me. Toss your rotten tomatoes AP but I am not buying Kerouac's ticket in this case.