Sometimes the Bad Die Young

Tragedy struck my hometown recently, as we had our first casualty in the Iraq war (or, as I like to call it, Operation Desert Drizzle). In reading the article about this boy's death, I was struck, as I often am, by how true it seems to be that "only the good die young." For some reason, whenever anyone under the age of 21 dies unexpectedly, they're remembered as being almost saint-like. They "lighted up the room when they walked into it." They "touched everybody who ever met them." They were "special," "had a big heart," and always "were full of life." I've never known anyone with even half of these qualitites.

Just once, I'd like to see an article like this take a more realistic tone:

Nine-year-old Jimmy Emery accidentally shot himself in the head while playing a game of "Give It Up, Bitch" with his little sister, Zoe. The boy, who relatives describe as being "full of death," will be missed by nobody, least of all his father, who is looking forward to converting his son's bedroom into an office. Neighbor Winn Pearson described the boy as a pervert. "He touched everyone who ever met him," he told reporters. The boy's fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Smithers of Cherry Valley grade school, was moved to hear of her student's death. Fighting back tears, she managed to say just once sentence: "Maybe there is a god."