Open thread—In memoriam Terry Jones

There will be time enough for impeachment pieces. One of the benefits of running your own blog is that you can allow yourself to be self-indulgent once in a while. Today is one of those days.

I'm sure I've told the story of how I never stood a chance at being anything other than a bemused observer of and actor in life. I was introduced to Monty Python by my oldest brother at around the age of 8 or 9. To say that I was precocious would be an understatement; I was watching the Pythons and "I, Claudius" at around the same age.

Did I get all the jokes? Well, now in the fog of memory I'd say that I got most of them. Some I wouldn't grok until I grew much older. But the anarchic Python spirit imprinted itself on me. It helped me to never take life too seriously. To always look on the bright side of death. And how to tell a tree from a very long way away.

Terry Jones became a dead parrot today. He has gone to the celestial fjords. Of all the Pythons, he was the slyest one. This unassuming little Welshman could make you belly laugh, and you were never sure why. From Sir Bedivere to Mandy to Mr. Creosote, he matched all the other Pythons in sheer audacity of his creations. And post-Python, he presented rather good history programs.

When he revealed that he had dementia, it was worse than death. For that brilliant mind to wither away, unable to take a scalpel to society, was as a living death. But it's over now.

So, allow me the indulgence of celebrating the life of Terry Jones.

This is your open thread.