Norman Mailer, "dead at 84. About fucking time.

I hated that little fuck. Every chance he got, he'd stick it to us. He was two hundred years old for fucks sake, why couldn't he just shut up? We tried to kill him twice. That useless piece of shit just wouldn't die. Renal failure, my ass. He's not dead. This is just a game to him. He'll come jumping out somewhere. You'll see. This miserable little fuck is not dead.