God must have needed a stick up man

If I were to start by saying Omar Little was a good man many may shrug it off, many will scoff at the thought.  But I do dare continue, I do say that Omar Little was a good man, he was and will always be.  And, with much dismay, I must tell you now that Omar is gone.   And, oh how Omar will be missed.

I want to say that Omar is the last of a dying breed.  I want to make the no country for old men argument and say how things have changed, Omar being taken by a child.  But, there is and will never be a breed like Omar and clearly there was no country for Omar Little.

Omar had a code of his own, a code although made and bred in the streets was based in ethics and morality.  A code which was based in love, whether it was for his lover Brandon or his friends.  A code which was based in what was right and what was wrong.  Omar was ruthless but didn't kill unmercifully like Marlo.   In fact Omar wouldn't kill unless pressed upon.  And when pressed upon you can be sure "Omar coming"

Omar once said...."You come at the king...you best not miss".  Damn you Kenard for not missing, damn you.  You need a hug and a Wii.  You don't need to be to Omar what Robert Ford was to Jesse James, what Pat Garrett is to Billy the Kid.  Damn you.

Omar,

I choose not and will not remember you limping around West Baltimore after escaping a run in with Chriss and Snoop (who escapes from Chriss and Snoop...Omar muthaf*ckin Little) in a quest for vengence, vengence for a lost friend.  I will, however, remember you blatantly and proudly winning over a jury as you proclaim that "Yes, I rob drug dealers..but NO I aint try to murder no one, I just shot him in his hind parts".  I will remember you calling 911 to try to save Brother Mouzone after you yourself shot the good brother because you were lead to believe he killed Brandon.  When you found out he did not you did what you could to save his life.  I remember.  I will remember you walking to the store (for Newports I spose') whistling "the farmer in the del", with your shotgun hipside like a cowboy six shooter and you trench coat waving in the wind like a ghetto superman cape, as hoppers and corner kids hustle away in panic shouting Omar coming.  I will remember.  How I will rememeber.

Rest Omar.  I know Marlo wouldn't let you rest as you did what you could to walk for the game.  The game wouldn't let you rest.  I know Baltimore wouldn't let you rest.  So, Omar, please rest...in peace.