But before we all forget Charles Krauthammer, I would like to do a little bit of remembrance

before we banish him to the world of ghosts.

This is a 1989 column that ran in the Washington Post, and I want to read this, and I want

you to keep in mind that when he dies, you are going to hear from people likely across

the political spectrum if you're allowed to appear on television or write in a newspaper.

You are going to hear remembrances of this man that he was a towering intellect, or

that even if you don't agree with him, his sentences or just his intellectual vigor and

his pen and lust or his pride in the sentences he wrote and ideas he helped shape or admirable.

This is a 1989 column entitled Drown the Baronstein Bears.

It begins, this is by Charles Krauthammer, I hate the Baronstein Bears.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, consider yourself lucky.

If you do, you too have suffered through volume upon volume of the life of the insufferable

bear family.

The creation is so click-hol.

Oh, the wronged bear side.

I hate them.

It was not spelled that way to begin with.

Curse it, Ersad!

I know I speak for thousands, perhaps millions of other parents who share my hostility to

these lumbering cuttleies, but who cannot say no to a child who begs for just one more dose.

The Baronsteins make begging, make the begging easy.

The back cover of some volumes are thoughtfully filled with full color covers of the others,

...