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I never met the blogger Doghouse Riley, though I reckon there were probably times during my occasional family visits when we must have been no more than about twenty miles apart – didn't even know his real name until I read it in his obituary. If I had gotten to meet him, I imagine I'd have other topics to bring up than whether his pseudonym actually came from the Raymond Chandler novel.
He was, it seemed to me, that luckiest of individuals: A man with a wicked sense of humor, a genuine voice, and the indignation of a badger, whose chosen subject – Indiana politics – afforded him an exceptionally target-rich environment.
I particularly enjoyed his shiv-like deployment of the well-turned phrase, such as here. And here. Elected and appointed miscreants in the Hoosier state – of which there is an endless supply – have gotten an undeserved break.
We can ponder the sweet irony that the last word on his site went to the woman he always referred to as My Poor Wife.