"This formerly mustachioed Canadian is one of the greatest game show hosts of all time." If you answered that with "who is Alex Trebek," you'd be all sorts of correct. The host of Jeopardy! is a living legend among television viewers.

Just the other day, Trebek put out an announcement detailing how he has stage four pancreatic cancer. The Washington Post wasted no time prematurely mourning him and using his illness to take digs at the Donald.

I kid you not:

Question: What is truth? In the wider world, it’s a question that seems slipperier at every turn. Postmodernists declared the truth socially constructed. The election of President Trump — who made 8,158 false or misleading claims in his first two years in office — suggested that they were right. So when Trebek announced Wednesday that he had been diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer, which carries a particularly low survival rate, it felt like we were grieving the potential loss of more than an avuncular quiz-show host. The loss of Trebek means the loss of a zone where the truth is clear and uncontested.

I'll take "things a classless lefty fart-sniffer would say" for $500, Alex.

Uh, writer guy here is mourning a guy who isn't dead. Sure, pancreatic cancer is one giant suckfest, but talking about Trebek like he's not still among the living is peak dickery. Not to mention using his illness as an excuse to take a cheap shot at the Trumpinator. This is a level of douchebaggery unmatched, even by the likes of Sean Connery. Or Turd Ferguson.

Unlike the lefty butt nuggets over at the Washington Post, we're not gonna politicize Alex Trebek's fight. Nor mourn him as if Final Jeopardy is already past. After all, we have at least some semblance of class.

Instead, we're gonna send him our best wishes for a full recovery and many years of good health and Daily Doubles. We're pulling for you, Alex.

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