Good Night Sweet Prince

I had a YouTube post all gussied up and ready to go, and then my sister called me up tonight and asked if I’d heard the news about Michael Clarke Duncan. And just like that, the world felt colder and the funny didn’t have a chance.

She didn’t have to say any more than that. I knew.

“Ah shit.”

There are plenty of times when eloquence escapes me, and this just so happened to be one of those times. It’s hard, if not damned near impossible to find poetry when a great big talent gets stolen away from us much too soon. And mortality was the only thing this hulk of a man couldn’t overcome. At six foot and forever with tree trunks hanging from his shoulders and a booming voice, the only thing bigger than his presence will be the tremendous void he leaves behind.

The passing of this gentle giant got me thinking back to something Rich Hoffman wrote about the late Jerome Brown of the Philadelphia Eagles after his untimely death twenty years ago. It applies just the same to Duncan.

He would’ve made a great old man.



12 thoughts on “Good Night Sweet Prince

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