Politics: Ding, Dong

The schmuck is dead, the wicked putz, the nasty schmuck ...


In light of a parent passing so recently, you'd think we would not be celebrating anyone's death, but we beg to differ. Jesse Helms was a mean, nasty, unregenerate racist pig who thought he was entitled to be the sole arbiter of national taste in art. We're not shedding any tears for him. (Hey, anybody know if Strom Thurmond popped his clogs too?)

From the paeans of praise lavished on this miserable, unpleasant old bigot by our friends in the Mainstream Media, you'd think he discovered a cure for cancer, or something. In our book, he was a cancer. What a truly horrible person. We daren't even say what we think of him, for fear we'll lose it and loose a spontaneous tirade of such obscenity that tender ears of friends and readers will redden cringefully. Mean, nasty, obstreperous, vindictive, unabashedly racist, segregationist, hateful, cruel, bigoted, dishonest, manipulative, and creepy are the politer words that come to mind.

Roland S. Martin, over at CNN, did post a polite piece on the reality of Helms. You're a better man than we, Roland. We can't take our focus off the nasties of that doddering blot upon humanity's escutcheon long enough to think of anything remotely polite to say about him.

Ah, according to the article, Thurmond has also had his appointment with divine, if any, justice. Mr. Helms, Mr. Thurmond, let us say how fervently we hope that you are both currently toasting marshmallows with an extra-short-handled fork in the worst confines of Hell. That is, truly, where you belong. May you suffer for all eternity the worst torments that you saw fit to inflict on people who did not share your class, race, skin colour, background, or taste in art. And a very Karen Finley sweet potato to you both.

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