Dedication

This is one day many of us will not soon forget, yeah?

Yes, this is one day many of us will not soon forget, I mean.

This is a day one and all of us should make sure to hold quite close and dear to each and every one of our beating—and sort of, by this, bleeding—hearts, as this is a day of mourning.

When it is, like this, a day that is—or qualifies to be—a day when all good and noble and true and honest and empathic people like you and me and them should hang down the heads we have sticking up off the ends of our necks—hang them down, you!—and cry tears for our dear and close and respected friend who has died.

He has died!

It is such a day, I say loudly and vigorously to you all. It is almost certainly such a day.

This gathered mass that you are but a single constituent part of, it is gathered to express feelings. The feelings are the sorts of unhappy feelings we all have inside us when something of a sad nature happens to happen. Like now.

And with the loss of our friend, we must hold on so very tightly to each and every other one of us! You, in the back! Come closer!

Hold tighter!

Hold tighter!

Frogger is dead! He was hit! Hit by a car! Trying to cross the road!

Hit by a car!

Hold tighter!

We met him only a little while ago, but he quickly became our friend. Oh, so quickly, it happened; he crawled deep inside of us, and found a comfortable and well-furnished and decorated home in our brain space. He lived with us, all the time.

He offered us a sympathetic ear. Always, he was willing to spend time on the telephones in his house, listening when we had something to say about something. It was like a pleasure for him, this listening that he did to us. It was like it was the least he could do, and often he would do more and even a lot more.

Hit by a red car!

Shame on the driver who paid so little attention!

Hold tighter!

This is an hour for some things, but not for others. Let us not cheapen this moment. Let us not make nothing of this hour by, say, leaving it to words on a flickering screen. Let's take these words to the streets—the blood-spattered streets!

Not to the screens. Only to the streets.

We can't blog about this. We must talk about this.

Hold tight.

Hold tighter.