PJ O’Rourke has cancer. As with everything else, he’s using it as an excuse to make us laugh. Although, I teared up a little when I read it.
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.
I met Mr. O’Rourke at the Vermont Tiger symposium. I hope he recovers quickly. (Of course, I would hope that even if I hadn’t met him at the symposium.)
My prayers go out to him and his family.
