Ding dong Gaddafi's dead

The world continues to rejoice over the death of a despot who treated his people with cruel indifference, a man reviled for the dark vision he sought to impose on humanity.

But enough for now about Oakland Raider owner Al Davis.

The death of Moammar Gaddafi played out exactly as I predicted in this February Death to Gaddafi post that in hindsight seems psychic. Check it out. It reads like a script to the events destined to happen eight months in the future.

A pity I can’t be even half as accurate predicting which one of two teams will win any given football game.

It would be comical in a strictly Looney Tunes sense if the last words the bullet-riddled Libyan strongman heard were, “Khadaffy, duck!”

His death is great news for his oppressed countrymen, survivors of his victims and any copy editor who had to determine whether the man who was killed was Khaddafy, Khadafi, Gadafi or Quadafi. It astounds me he’s been on the world scene for 40 years and major news organizations still haven’t come to agreement on how to spell the guy’s name.

You mean there’s not one picture of him wearing one of those, “Hello! My name is . . .” tags?

Another enduring surprise about Gaddafi’s life is how he never made it past the rank achieved by good-natured bumbler Henry Blake, the colonel in charge of M*A*S*H 4077.

He even died outranked by Milwaukee hardware salesman Howard Cunningham from “Happy Days.” Mr. C. was Grand Poobah of Leopard Lodge no. 462.

And, c’mon, I was just kidding about Al Davis.

Since his death I’ve read many kind remarks from former players who say he was a true standup guy.

Besides, the poor man’s already been through hell.

Year after year, he had to watch the Raiders try to beat the Pittsburgh Steelers in the 1970s.