Christopher Hitchens, I will miss you

Christopher Hitchens was my hero. He died of cancer, aged 62, after a life of smoking, drinking, partying but above all writing and thinking. He was the kind of anarchist you could not fail to love: left in the morning, conservative at night. Protest marches and champagne; trotskyite and saloon socialist, travelling all over the world and especially to dictatorships. Christopher hated authorities of all kind, but sadistic rulers were his favourites. He also disliked hypocrisy, in politics as well as in religion. How his writings killed Henry Kissinger and Mother Teresa (and God, of course)! Brilliant. Hitchens didn’t want to receive special cancer treatment but chose instead to be looked after in a hosice in Houston. Tipically him: no fuss, the end is the end. And despite some believers’ hope, he didn’t convert on his deathbed. He had dismissed the existence of God in his ‘god is not Great’ (2007) and wasn’t prepared to accept him in the last minutes of his life. In his memoirs he predicted that he would like to ‘do death in the active, not the passive’, and that is what he did. Leaving behind the rage and intelligence we will miss. Why not continue his mission? Why not.  

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