P.J. O'Rourke has Butt Cancer

One of my favorite writers, P. J. O'Rourke, has cancer. He has written a thoughtful and funny article at the LA Times.

Furthermore, I am a logical, sensible, pragmatic Republican, and my diagnosis came just weeks after Teddy Kennedy's. That he should have cancer of the brain, and I should have cancer of the ass ... well, I'll say a rosary for him and hope he has a laugh at me. After all, what would I do, ask God for a more dignified cancer? Pancreatic? Liver? Lung?

Which brings me to the nature of my prayers. They are, like most prayers from most people, abject self-pleadings. However, I can't be the only person who feels like a jerk saying, "Please cure me, God. I'm underinsured. I have three little children. And I have three dogs, two of which will miss me. And my wife will cry and mourn and be inconsolable and have to get a job. P.S. Our mortgage is subprime."

God knows this stuff. He's God. He's all-knowing. What am I telling him, really?

No matter where you sit on the political spectrum, you need to read a little of his work. For some non-political writing, check out his writing for Automobile Magazine in Road Trips, Head Trips, and Other Car-Crazed Writings. He has a hilarious story about the time the magazine sent him to Mexico in new Lincoln with a tall blond woman as his photographer.

We wish him well.