Vonne-gone

There is a tendency for us literary types to get all maudlin when one of our heroes dies, mourning the writer and not the man. Had I not met Kurt Vonnegut not too long ago, I would probably be sharing in the somewhat perverse sentimentality. But honestly, I'm relieved. Vonnegut's long life and not-too-prolonged death is something to celebrate. The man was getting quite -- well, how should I put it -- persnickety in his old age and did not appear to be enjoying his golden years. If ever there was a man in need of a little peace, it was Vonnegut, and I'm glad he's no longer in pain.

So, rest in peace, Kurt. And God bless.