#requiescat in pace

[swan2swan]

Dang.

Mike Lange got me through a lot of shifts at Wendy's and a good number of drives home from student teaching...to say nothing of the dozens of times I would just be driving at night for other reasons. Visiting family. Driving the siblings around. Running errands.

There was never a better feeling than hearing "HEEEEEEEE SHOOTS AND SCORES!" it didn't matter if the game was tight and the Pens were taking the lead, if the team was up and we were just grinding the skate down further, or if we were getting blown out with two minutes left and we just scored some meaningless goal...he had a different tone for every version, so it was always a wave of emotional synchronization. Didn't matter what was happening in the game, when Lange called it, you knew someone out there was sharing your emotions.

And that was the BASIC.

The one that has always seared itself into my brain, that I can hear at will, is "OH, LORD STANLEY! ETCH THEIR NAMES ON YOUR FABLED CUP!" 2009, Pittsburgh Penguins triumphing over the Detroit Red Wings. That line echoed for WEEKS, and was replayed for years on the Penguins radio station.

He retired years ago, but now...he's Gone Gone.

It's a mournful night in Pittsburgh.

[eldestvirtuevic]

Żegnaj, królowo wieczorów z Polsatem

[igorthememedealer]

I love my daughter, Kassandra. She really was the Sun.

Artist: @gutz-spilled

[jloisse]

Il y a un an, Daria Douguina était assassinée dans un attentat à la voiture piégée à Bolshie Vyazyomy à 40 km de Moscou.

Vladimir Poutine lui décernera l'ordre du Courage à titre posthume.

[lunarriviera]

rest in peace sweet quincy, 6.15.15 – 8.05.23

[latin-phrases-showdown]

Round 1 Poll 12

Translation and propaganda for Panem et circenses

Translation and propaganda for Requiescat in pace

[abuddyforeveryseason]

Here lies the Buddy for May 10th. Well, I did tell you he was going to die. I guess the big Lung C got him.

He died young, but that's what happens when you nourish a 3-carton a day habit. Of course, not everyone who smokes gets lung cancer, but there are a bunch of other diseases associated with it. Like heart disease and whatnot.

So, now that Buddy's good and dead, stay tuned tomorrow for the Very Last Buddy, I've got something really special in store for the Buddy of May 11th. And I promise this time it won't just be another Jojo reference.

[number3]

😔

I've had fun booping today. It might be the weather, but it's made me miss @saint-batrick. Bats was, like, my only active mutual on this site. Another Olde, who remembered the internet before it was tamed, a exhilaratingly dangerous wilderness. They would have loved this. Just… charging into the website, wildly swinging a pool noodle. Cackling with glee as their boop-meter breaks.

(also, I could have used the help. 😏 I don't know how y'all are getting that last badge, this has been exhausting. 🥱 )

[vera-simik]

Captured these while I've been visiting grandma and grandpa

[menglod]

How deeply must we love

To accept this weighted grief

Every time

Just for the hope

Of being loved the same.

[swan2swan]

"Oh Carl Weathers is trending, what's he up t--oh this is going to be a BAD YEAR."

[smandmoree]

As the football world mourns your loss, your legacy in the sport will continue to inspire and guide generations to come. RIP, Der Kaiser! 🙏🕊

The f1tfballetc admin sends her deepest condolences to the family, friends and people who worked with Franz Beckenbauer.

[ladylilithprime]

Bless Harry Belafonte on to his next great adventure!

[drgaellon]

Rest in peace, Mr. Belafonte. Your music will continue to inspire.

[pureamericanism]

The House-Dog's Grave

or Haig, an English Bulldog

By Robinson Jeffers

=======

I’ve changed my ways a little; I cannot now Run with you in the evenings along the shore, Except in a kind of dream; and you, if you dream a moment, You see me there.

So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door Where I used to scratch to go out or in, And you’d soon open; leave on the kitchen floor The marks of my drinking pan.

I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do On the warm stone, Nor at the foot of your bed; no, all the night through I lie alone.

But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet Outside your window where firelight so often plays, And where you sit to read–and I fear often grieving for me– Every night your lamplight lies on my place.

You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard To think of you ever dying A little dog would get tired, living so long. I hope than when you are lying

Under the ground like me your lives will appear As good and joyful as mine. No, dear, that’s too much hope: you are not so well cared for As I have been.

And never have known the passionate undivided Fidelities that I knew. Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided. . . . But to me you were true.

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend. I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,

I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

=======

No commentary this time.