I know, I didn’t believe those rumors that it was all a trick either. He’s dead. I can’t say that I’m broken up about it. Good people die every day, and I have been known to suggest the names of others who would better have taken their place in Elysium, or elsewhere. Sometimes the strike of fate hits someone more deserving, someone we care less about, someone like Mr. Breitbart. “The late Andrew Breitbart;” I admit that I do like the sound of it.
It’s old news now, but at the time Gawker ran a great piece about it. Lots of really superb little bon mots in the piece, great turns-of-phrase. Like referring to the presenters at Fox News as “. . . the AquaNet-shellacked, c-minus Sturmabteilung of Fox News.” That’s a good one! Or calling Glen Beck “. . . an acid filled tear duct.”
They were not gentle with the late Mr. Breitbart either, not even with his alma mater. He went to Tulane University, which was described as “a place . . . where people can drink a lot of beer and wake up seven years later as attorneys.” Mr. Breitbart complained a lot about Liberals, but Gawker suggests that he “. . . wanted to be taken seriously by those Liberals, a weakness that might have been endearing were his unregenerate viciousness not routinely employed in racist whistle-blowing and character assassination.”
The article mentions the sudden outburst of good will that broke out upon the reporting of Mr. Breitbart’s unanticipated death. Many of these well-wishers had noted that he was a husband, and the father of four children. Gawker speculated that “. . . perhaps for some that’s enough reason to whitewash a career richly studded with racism, hatred and contempt.”
“Perhaps that’s enough to turn honest evaluations of a life riven with opportunistic malice into mealy-mouthed encomia about ‘a provocateur’ and a ‘punk rock journalist.’” It wasn’t enough for Gawker.
If ever there were a man who deserved both barrels in death, as in life, it was Andrew Breitbart.