Yep. He’s dead. They couldn’t check his pulse because of the excess fat, but when he stopped asking for food they figured he had kicked. So some brave soul put his ear up to that thing we called his face to check his breathing. And, alas, there wasn’t any. I would have bet the ranch that he would have pulled a Mama Cass and choked on a ham sandwich. But he fooled us all. After living through 18 months of pancreatic cancer he probably wished somebody would have given him a ham sandwich. That’s a tough way to go. But as they say, he’s in a better place now where he can eat all he wants and sing till the wee hours. Somebody get me a tissue.

By the way, that is not Saddam Hussein in the picture, although you swap the tux for whatever is proper “spider hole” attire and you’ve got a dead ringer for that wily ex-dictator. You know how all Chinese look the same to Americans? I wonder if everyone looks like each other in heaven. Food for thought. I’m hungry.