My first cousin, a man who shared my grandfather’s name as do I, died of complications from Heroin Abuse. He had finally found a job he could do–picking up Portable Toilets–but developed Cancer and died a quiet, quick death. Whitney H’s death reminded me of him, not because of any special physical characteristics, but because it is 1:03 am and I am not very coherent right now.
Better we should have a moment of silence for my cousin. After all, anyone can give you shit like Whitney but you need a mensch like WR to take it.