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...the only one I ever truly danced on (figuratively speaking) was that of the mercifully late Lee Atwater. I realize that he repudiated his formerly evil ways from his deathbed while dying of a malignancy in his malignant brain, but that was a day late and a dollar short of doing any fucking good. So while I'm typically a forgiving person, I broke with my natural inclination in order to rejoice in the demise of a cynical, underhanded ne'er-do-well. Same goes for the highly-anticipated passing of Atwater protege Karl Rove.
In another, somewhat similar case, despite my strong disapproval of the death penalty in any form, I took the opportunity to be uncharacteristically inconsistent by looking the other way the day that Timothy McVeigh was executed. I simply haven't time to protest when someone so violently and dangerously opposed to democracy and democratic means of conflict resolution finds his life precariously positioned beneath the sword of Damocles. Sorry--next.
As for Reagan, well, people grow old and infirm, then die. Many both better and worse than he have gone before, and you and I shall surely follow without regard to our merits or works, and without recourse. I do not dance on that particular grave, but neither do I mourn.
As for the next possible suspension of my otherwise natural empathy for human suffering and respect for the dignity of the recently deceased, I'm thinkin': Byron De La Beckwith.
On the stone that remains Carved Next to his name His epitaph claims Only a pawn in their game
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