Perhaps it would be best if Mr. Arkin, wearing a dingy t-shirt and stained khakis, locked himself into a small room lighted by a lone, unsheathed incandescent bulb strung from a wire, supplied with a bottle of store label whiskey and a loaded Browning 9mm semi-automatic pistol, drank the whiskey, cried apologies to his absent mother, and discharged a single, lethal round into his angry and imbalanced head, ending a life whose pinnacle was to anger men and women smarter, braver, and stronger than he.
William M. Arkin, RIP
William M. Arkin, RIP
William M. Arkin, RIP
Perhaps it would be best if Mr. Arkin, wearing a dingy t-shirt and stained khakis, locked himself into a small room lighted by a lone, unsheathed incandescent bulb strung from a wire, supplied with a bottle of store label whiskey and a loaded Browning 9mm semi-automatic pistol, drank the whiskey, cried apologies to his absent mother, and discharged a single, lethal round into his angry and imbalanced head, ending a life whose pinnacle was to anger men and women smarter, braver, and stronger than he.
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