Crass, I Know…

…but an evil, petty little part of me desperately wants to sing “ding-dong, the Witch is dead — which old witch? The Wicked Witch!” as I dance gaily around the house. Like I said, crass, but what the hell — the man did a lot of evil, awful things in his time on the planet.

And of course, when I step back and realize that the next several weeks of media coverage will pretty much posthumously elevate him to sainthood, a la Reagan, my cheery mood evaporates. There’s something very dangerous about the American mentality of “they’re dead, so you’ve got to say only nice things about them!”, if you ask me…