My father was extremely intelligent. Usually one of the smartest people in the room. He predicted Dick Cheney's imminent demise shortly after he'd had some rather dramatic heart surgery. "That's one of the last things they do." He said. "You spend a year to 18 months clinging to life before your body just gives up."

He would go on to retire, enjoy several years of retirement, come down with an extremely rare progressive disease, go through enough testing to get successfully diagnosed, go through treatment, and unfortunately pass away.

He could have done all that twice since Dick Cheney got that fucking heart surgery. My dad was a good, if flawed man, and that genocidal mother fucker is the one still drawing breath.

If God is real, he is not good.

If he is good, he is not real.