Oy. People are dropping all around me this week. I’m requesting time off of work from my employer, himself wearing a funeral suit, so I can go to viewings and burials. Between ceremonies, I’m receiving phone calls about more croakers. This is what I imagine life to be like in south Florida.

Don’t over-fret, everyone was old. Some I’ll miss, some i won’t, it sucks that they didn’t get to live longer, but in the end, this is what old people do.

Excuse me if I don’t wave my fist in the air, cry crocodile tears, scream into the ether about the humanity of it all as though I’m Charlton Heston on the beach of some monkey planet, feign solidarity, or exploit the opportunity to criticize my ideological opponents. I’ll save that all for the next big terrorist attack.

But didn’t the next big terrorist attack happen just yesterday? Oh yeah, that was in Iraq. Those don’t count. They're our enemies... I mean our friends. Thank goodness I don’t have to feel emotionally drained about that one.

Hey, I did just exploit the situation to criticize my ideological opponents. Well what do you know? I guess I am just like everybody else.

Gotta go. Bells are tolling. Things to do. People to bury.

Toodles.