Let us have a master administer the last slam

After telling us he was going, Andy Sullivan is certainly making his departure as overwrought as he can (and lord knows that is more overwrought than a Shatner Death Scene). So let us quote Wolcott on the "living" wake:

First, he ran a selection of emails from faithful readers telling him how much his blog meant to them, their loss tempered by gratitude and the understanding that there's more to life than blogging, such as savoring the aroma of Gevala coffee on a frosty morn. One heartbroke correspondent testified, "Your absence will mark a huge void in my daily life, but it is reassuring that you aren't gone entirely, and may return some day." Like the Lone Ranger, or a recurring rash.

This was barf-baggy enough, but then Andrew decided to blog the SOTU to model his ambivalent sensitivities one mo' time down the gangplank. Some parts he liked, others distressed him, but then the president started getting magisterially pissy.

"We're finally onto foreign policy ... and the speech suddenly improves. Love the dig at Zarqawi."

Yes, because everyone knows what a babyish pouter Zarqawi is. One cutting remark, and he crumples in the corner, unable to lift his cleaver. Of course, Bush also goaded the insurgents to "bring [it] on," which they obligingly did, so perhaps he might want to shelve his digs in the future, since they tend to get others killed.

There is more.