I always feel a bit guilty about not caring enough about Jim Morrison.
I guess I'm kind of picky about what I consider artful and what I consider "throwing a bunch of half-assed doggerel together to complete the high school English assignment."
It's the same sort of guilt when I have to admit to very pompous people, who know far more than I do, that I don't find Ernest Hemingway's content particularly interesting, and I feel as though his style was designed purposely to talk down to me, and not to speak to me.
I think the reason that I have guilt about either of these is that they both died pretty stupidly. I can't figure out any other reason for their significance. Does bad writing and worse deaths really contribute so much to the shape of literature and literacy today?