I wish your great big Moose self would go crashing through the world right now, knocking everything in your path spinning into space. You stayed up biting your fingernails over Bush. You should see Trump. You couldn't have believed it. Well, yes you could because you would have already seen Brexit. I miss you, Moose. The world needs clear eyes and sharp minds and gentle, sweet hearts but that same world chews them up and spits them out. I'll never forget the vision I had the night I heard you died. I've only seen a real moose once in my life but suffice it to say that grand and comical beast made quite an impression on my half terrified/half fascinated self as it came crashing through the woods to the pond I had gone to for a bit of needed silence. Getting to know you I could see why that animal spoke to you. Damn, I could use some of your humor right now.