Groovy Times, Margaret Thatcher, And The Universe’s Perverse Sense Of Humor
For what it’s worth, I agree with my friend Danielle from the UK (@DCPlod on Twitter), who penned this piece earlier today on the passing of former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. I’ve never been one to dance on anybody’s grave, even the grave of a polarizing figure like Margaret Thatcher, who, along with Ronald Reagan, ushered in some pretty dark days indeed. I’ve buried enough of my own dead to know, there’s nothing to celebrate here. Death is death.
Still, you have to give the universe credit for its love of bitter irony. Mrs. Thatcher made it to the respectable age of 87, while her one of her sharpest critics, John Graham Mellor, better known as Joe Strummer, died of a heart attack a little over ten years ago at the unreasonably young age of 50. It’s things like this that lead me sincerely to hope that it’s all just entropy after all, and not the hand of some demonic god who just likes to screw with us.
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Still, you have to give the universe credit for its love of bitter irony. Mrs. Thatcher made it to the respectable age of 87, while her one of her sharpest critics, John Graham Mellor, better known as Joe Strummer, died of a heart attack a little over ten years ago at the unreasonably young age of 50. It’s things like this that lead me sincerely to hope that it’s all just entropy after all, and not the hand of some demonic god who just likes to screw with us.
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