Death is Irony.

There can be curious irony when it comes to death. America's greatest non-violent protester? Shot to death in Memphis fighting for the rights of people that pick up our trash.. His own mentor, Ghandi? Shot. The single greatest peace-loving pacifist of all time? (Allegedly) given the most awful of deaths, crucifixion.

Meanwhile, Hitler? Took some pills, snuggled up with his girlfriend.

Whack.

I'm reminded of this by remembering the day after 9/11 when we were all at the Turkey's Nest and listening to the tales of a guy that was there when it happened a day before. We were dumbstruck as he told us stories of seeing falling bodies and body parts; we all, including him, marveled that he survived the greatest attack on the American homeland in history.

But the one thing I'll remember for all my years, long after I've forgotten about 9/11, is what he said at the door as he was leaving. Muttering under his breath, I don't think anyone else even heard him, he said "Now after all that, watch me walk out the door right now and get hit by a bus."

Sweet, horrible life.