DEATH BY ALAN RICKMAN--by Reb MacRath

Here's something different for my September blog: a sampling from my new Substack thread called Muggability Blues. The thread's unifying theme is not only mugging but other threats of  our time, energy, confidence, joy, etc. And each month has four entries: one discussing Danger, one a personal Disclosure related to the first post, a third post detailing Defenses, and a fourth sharing Resources. This second September entry should be of interest to my British friends. And next month I'll write about my Substack lessons and challenges so far. Without further ado, this is for anyone who's been killed  by Alan Rickman. 

MUGGABILITY BLUES

September DISCLOSURE: Alan Rickman Kills Me When He Loves My Suit

D. F. Cotter

Sep 08, 2026

In Die Hard, CEO Joseph Takagi lives a while longer after Hans Gruber admires his suit…but I’ve always been a sucker for a plummy British accent. And if Hans had said ‘Nice suit’ to me, even while holding a gun, I’d have been tempted to cave on the spot.

Real life plays with me in the same way. A rival at work or a duplicitous writer knowing my soft-spoken nature may take me off my guard by warmly greeting me and praising my work. It’s unlikely that anyone can ever top the British alcoholic who swore he slept with a copy of my book Nobility under his pillow. But that’s another story.

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Even now, though I’ve grown savvier, I wage an ongoing battle against rotters who have silver tongues.

Relax. Now we’ve come to the good part: how all this connects with BOB, my Boxing Opponent Dummy, and our defense against muggers.

In the years I’d spent studying Aikido, there’d never been any real contact despite the brutal training. Tens of thousands of breakfalls and throws, painful torques of wrists and elbows, yes. But full-force kicks and punches? No.

Well, the damnedest thing happened two nights ago when I had at BOB, using my trainer-tipped Stealth Pen Pro. I found myself daintily poking this 300-pound beast with the pen—as if scared of hurting him.

And that was when I heard BOB speak just like Alan Rickman:

“Nice pen. What a warrior you are! Take it easy on me, my good man. I did have an unhappy childhood, you know.”

Getting used to the towering presence of BOB was only the first part. Learning to hit him as if he were real, using the pen and my elbows and fists without any thought of his accent—I tell you, friends, that took some doing.

But unless it’s done, we’ll be undone by the shock of such blows in a contest. It has to be familiar. It must be second nature.

And we’ll be well-prepared for other forms of mugging that must be dealt with daily: fearlessly and in good form.

Yippie-kai-ayyyy

!

Thanks for reading! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.