At the risk of sounding grim, it's a truism that the longer you live, the more dead people you know, and the more dead celebrities you know of.

This is especially sobering if you're not terribly social, and thus don't relish making a lot more new relationships, and tend to keep people at a distance already.

At PZ's place, without comment, he mentions the passing of Blue Collar Scientist.

The estimable Orac chimes in with: Being a cancer surgeon and knowing too much can sometimes be a bitch.

I cut-and-paste my reply, even if no one is reading, because it helps me recognize where I'm at with the death of my father-in-law:

As the only person with any scientific training in the circle of my in-laws, one of whom just (mercifully) succumbed to lung cancer, I can relate. One feels like saying, 'What good is knowledge if it can't be helpful?' or some such. Logically, I know the former is a ridiculous, overwrought, emotional response to an intractable problem. But it still feels right to say it.

And so I, Kohelleth, was king over Jerusalem. Or something like that.

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