Am I a bad person?

Maybe. Maybe I'm wicked, and a special place in Hell is set aside for me because my reaction on hearing that "Ted Kennedy Has Died" was to ask "How could they tell."

Laurel reminds us Nil Nisi Bonum, and Michelle Malkin says we should be respectful and solemn, but, frankly, he overstayed his welcome; about the time he told Mary Jo to "stay here while I swim for help", frankly.

I got tired of the Kennedy Entitlement years ago; oh, sure, I (vaguely) recall Jack's funeral (vaguely--I was in First Grade at the time) and for a while I was caught up in the whole Camelot mystique.

Then I hit puberty and got over it.

Ted Kennedy was a booze-soaked political hack. He used his position as the de facto head of the Kennedy Clan to push every half-baked barking moonbat libtard cause under the sun. I don't really care that Honey Fitz made his pile as a rum runner, I just wish he and his had been content to waste it in harmless gauche displays of vulgarity and conspicuous consumption like, oh, Madrid Sheraton or whatever her name is. Instead we get almost fifty years of waving a bloody shirt. (Not that there hasn't been a surfeit of gauche displays of vulgarity and conspicuous consumption, it's just that they are so much more entertaining when not accompanied by the thought that this brain dead twit is, or is closely related to, a powerhouse in our gubbmint.)

And now, mark my words, just when there was hope that Obamalamadingdong's socialist agenda might be going off the rails, we are about to be told that "We have to cram this crap down the gullet of the Amurcan People because Teddy would have wanted it!""We owe it to Ted"

Bah.