Don't Let the Door Hit You: Arafat reportedly at Death's door in Paris. (No word on whether he just happened to be there, or if the gates of Hades open off the Champs Elysee. As good a place for hell as any.) It will be good f*cking riddance.

"It tears your heart up," said Mahmod Nimr, a 36-year-old unemployed Palestinian. "I can't see someone taking his place."

I can't either. This guy has caused as much misery as any man alive today, and all in the pursuit of . . . a Palestinian state? Nope. He could have had that in 1994, with a goddamn bow on top, with a kiss on the cheek from Ehud Barak and one on the ass from Clinton. He traded it for ten more years of blood in the streets and funds diverted into his Swiss accounts.

Just drop dead already. I'm not religious, but I'm put in mind of the Italian guy, Giuseppi, in Zoltan Korda's great propaganda piece Sahara, and his final speech on the evil of Hitler, before he is knifed by a Luftwaffe pilot: "It is for men like him that god, my god, created hell."