I swear to God, I can't believe we're coming up on a year since everything we knew, everything we've appreciated, everything we've held dear and taken for granted has been upended by this virus. 

And he knew. He knew the shit was going to hit the fan even before the fan was turned on.

The day he dies (and it's coming soon; I just know it) will be a day of celebration for the world...and a day of planning for me.

- Find out what city he's buried in

- Book a flight there

- Make my way to his cemetery

- Chug a bottle of that stuff they make you drink the night before a colonoscopy on the way there

- Take a good, watery shit all over his grave

It's pretty much what he deserves. Hell, maybe more than he deserves.