I looked death in the face. All right, I didn't. I glimpsed him in a crowd. I've been diagnosed with cancer, of a very treatable kind. I'm told I have a 95% chance of survival. Come to think of it -- as a drinking, smoking, saturated-fat hound -- my chance of survival has been improved by cancer.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
God and whiskey
I pretty much hated this piece, but I have to admit that the lede got my attention:
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