I’m no Hitchens, but since clomping about in his enormous rhetorical shoes on ‘Collision’ evening, I’ve been thinking about the guy. He’s published an article about his illness.
My father had died, and very swiftly, too, of cancer of the esophagus. He was 79. I am 61. In whatever kind of a “race” life may be, I have very abruptly become a finalist.
And appeared for an interview with Anderson Cooper.
And since I’m now teaching The Swearing Class at UWA Extension, here’s a thought from Jeffrey Goldberg:
As for the few of you who wrote to Goldblog to say they were praying for Hitch’s death, I can say that he does not care one way or another what you do or think or pray, but on behalf of myself and the entire team here at The Atlantic, let me just say, Go fuck yourselves.
I concur. Who said profanity was in poor taste?
I’m pulling for you, Mr Hitchens.
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