Et Tu?

I am informed today by Driftglass that Tbogg has decided to retire from blogging. As Driftglass notes, this shocking news, coming just on the heels of the death of Doghouse Riley, feels like the opening of a black hole. I can only console myself with a Charles Bukowski reflection which he summoned many years back upon the suicide of some noted poet, who'd jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge I think it was. I can't remember the poet who jumped, nor find Bukowski's elegy. Such is life in this misty universe. I guess I could summon the oracle of the Google, if I could think of just the right question.

Whatever. I will sorely miss Tbogg, whose insights were numerous and valuable. He seems to have decided that the intimations of mortality he's been given by the sudden loss of Doug Case and others spur him to go do something different and somehow more life-worthy. This is the existential question, always present, asked over and over and over by the reflective mind. It's a question Dick Cheney never seems to think up. Quelle Fromage.

I kinda liked Bukowski's answer though. It went along the lines of this:

I hear so-and-so jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge yesterday.
Damn that's a shame.
I guess this makes me 71st on the list of
Greatest Living Poets.

It's time for a new chapter in the chronicle of the Houdahenians. I'll be getting to that next. There's also some stuff coming about the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, 1963. I was there.