Death comes for the Archbishop

Ok so my friend B_____ is not an Archbishop, and Death did not come for him he went to it, I just thought it was a snazzy way to title a blog entry. In fact, the poor fool in question was an agnostic of many years. I guess that does not stop Death from coming it may just make it a little less or more painful, or maybe it makes it more complicated. I am sure that a conversation between B____ and Death would have had some interesting moments, and probably was sprinkled with a few words that should not be repeated lest they ruin some people's moral fiber. Anyway, Vegas buried poor B______ in style or, at least in as much style as our little band could muster. Most everyone kept their dignity, but certainly did not keep their money. B_____ had his maudlin moments, but for the most part he seemed resigned to his fate, as only those who know it is futile to struggle against fate can. He is/was not a morbid fellow, except maybe morbidly obese, and he seemed to be, in the words of the Mayor, "jubilant" near the end. That may have been because he could not be bothered to walk a straight line, or finish a coherent sentence, or it may have been because even though his sand was about to run out of his hourglass, he was amongst pals and was having a very good time. I did manage to catch him in a reflective moment, he had just tottered out of the bathroom, and asked him what he thought about the world now that he was about to leave it. He valiantly tried to focus his redshot eyes, snorted, and said "in the end there is no Justice just Death" then, turned and put another one dollar bill into an entertainer's G-string.