Derb's the word

When I found out last week that John Derbyshire was undergoing chemotherapy for lymphoma, I wanted to write something to express how fervently I wanted to will the cancer into remission, but the only thing I could think of articulating were well wishes for a speedy recovery. Randall Parker improves mightily on that, with a sober spirit the Derb surely appreciates:

I would wish the Derb well. But he and I both know wishes won't work against cancer. We need far more advanced biomedical science and biotechnology to defeat that killer.

John reminds me so much of my dad that I almost feel like I'm hearing a family member speak when I listen to Radio Derb. They are close in age, come from the same vicinity of the same ancestral homeland (albeit over three centuries apart), resemble one another in appearance, and share an utter disregard for the intellectual barriers and roadblocks political correctness throws up in the thinking man's path. My dad was diagnosed with colorectal cancer five years ago. Don't worry, I'm not trying to tug at heartstrings here--he underwent a successful surgery and hasn't had any recurring issues since. He's still with us and remains my closest confidant on the planet.

I really hope John gets through this. There's only one way out of this world, but it's not his time. Not yet, not yet.