"Dying is easy. Parking is hard." That's Art Buchwald at his mocking best and how Charles Krauthammer begins his essay on The Fine Art of Dying Well.
He wonders whether it's just a matter of not dying badly, that is not comically in a pratfall, not becoming by your death a metaphor for urban alienation like poor Kitty Genovese, the name of a disease like Lou Gehrig, or the name of a law like poor Megan.
Or worse still, by a suicide bomber in the
ultimate perversion of the "good death," done for the worst of motives—self-creation through the annihilation of others