The Boston Marathon

On one hand I think what I think whenever something like this happens: I can't believe it doesn't happen more often. Then  I feel guilty because I can't hep but think "really, did they hafta wait til the finish line for this?", a la this:

I don't know why people always say "at least he went doing something he loved." What? Why the fuck would that be good? Let's say I'm about to play basketball for an hour, but drop dead as I start playing. That means I am robbed an hour of doing what I love doing. Why is this good? Ever hear anybody say how thrilled they were about having to stop in the middle of doing something they liked? Who's the wizard behind this saying?

I wanna go doing something I HATE, like if I'm staring at a pile of shirts that need to be ironed, or gotta find a washcloth to get my jizz outta whosever eyeball I just crusted (prolly while her best friend/sister films.) If you gotta die, you might as well get out of doing something you hate, right?

In MY case, I'd want the fucker to be at the  starting line. "Thank god, got outta this!"

Then I wonder if they chose today because it's the day I went on my first date with my first love:

April 15, 1989: after a young lifetime of being terrified by clumsy dudes in movies/tv and hearing horror stories et al re: getting a girl's bra off, was relieved to see that my first girlfriend had a bra that easily opened from the front. Lil hook, open. Could yell at it and it would open. Unfortunately, she had no titties in the first place. A Pyrrhic victory, at best. Slip into the hen house, no hens.

Hey, what do you want from me. Nobody turns to Xmastime during these times. If you're here, you're obviously not looking for Winston Churchill, for chrissake.