The Black Republican

Crap. Just damn.

I'd just finished posting the article below, and refreshed the page, when I saw Chris Muir's homage to a man who probably wouldn't have blinked twice - no, not even once - over my little rant. And despite all his threats to the contrary, Rob apparently didn't leave this world by his own hand.

There's a lesson there, boys and girls. A powerful and meaningful lesson, reflected in the lives and times of two very different people.

The abbreviated version of the Irish Blessing goes double for you, buddy. And in your case, I'm not just saying it because I oughta. I really hope it's true. But I'm sure you'd prefer if I'd leave you to Clemens than to God. Most appropriate is probably: "Death, the refuge, the solace, the best and kindliest and most prized friend and benefactor of the erring, the forsaken, the old and weary and broken of heart." But that one is so sad, and Irishmen prefer other sentiments with their wake toast.

So for you, I prefer this one:

It has been reported that I was seriously ill--it was another man; dying--it was another man; dead--the other man again...As far as I can see, nothing remains to be reported, except that I have become a foreigner. When you hear it, don't you believe it. And don't take the trouble to deny it. Merely just raise the American flag on our house... and let it talk.

Rest in peace.