Andy Rooney, the crusty, cranky, bushy-browed curmudgeon that gave us a few minutes of insight every Sunday night at the end of 60 Minutes died Friday night, according to the Star Tribune. He was 92.

Rooney was known to America as a commentator on American life. He would write brief essays and deliver them from his small, wooden desk, in a room filled with books.

According to the New York Times, Rooney died after complications from a minor surgery Friday. 

From mixed nuts to Kurt Cobain, Rooney left nothing untouched. As the Times wrote it,

“He admitted to loving football, Christmas, tennis, woodworking and Dwight D. Eisenhower, one of the few politicians who won his approval because, as an Army general during World War II, he had refused to censor Stars and Stripes, the G.I. newspaper for which Mr. Rooney worked. He also claimed to like shined shoes and properly pressed pants and had machines in his office to take care of those functions, although somehow he always managed to look rumpled.

But he was better known for the things he didn’t like. He railed against “two-prong plugs in a three-prong society,” the incomprehensibility of road maps, wash-and-wear shirts “that you can wash but not wear,” the uselessness of keys and locks, and outsize cereal boxes that contained very little cereal.”

Rooney aired his final essay on Oct. 2. Since he began in 1978, Rooney had delivered 1,092 essays.

Although he officially stepped down from CBS, Rooney had said he wasn’t retiring because writers never retire.

Irritated, disgruntled or out of touch. Whatever Andy Rooney was, if nothing else, he was loved. 

Here’s Andy Rooney on the Post Office.