So, no, I can't really take a long, joyful slash on the grave of Andrew Breitbart, as much as that monster would like me to. I have been on both sides of the victim and bully fence, and while I like to think I've gotten better about some aspects of that dichotomy, there's still so much more to improve.
When Kurt Vonnegut died, some time ago, FOX News decided to do all but take that slash on his grave. The fact that he was no bully, and no monster, but merely a man whose opinions they didn't care for might make this comparison a bit of a seeming stretch. But we have to remember that, in these highly polarized times, one person's cantankerous old wit is another person's cultural terrorist, and none of us are capable of totally clear sight when it comes to such judgments.
And I certainly hope that, when it comes time to remember me, those who disagreed with me -- and that I disagreed with -- will have kinder ways of remembering me than public urination on my headstone.
So let's just say that Andrew Breitbart was a politico like me -- just a little older, a lot more successful, and a lot less pleasant. Maybe something was wrong at his home when he was a kid, and maybe something was just wrong with him. But he had a choice between being reaching out to those he disagreed with, or trying to ignore them and work around them, but he chose instead to be hurtful and unkind. And, unfortunately, he will never have a chance to look back on his actions, realize how foolish they were, and make amends.
As a result, I will never have the eventual joy of meeting an older, wiser Breitbart, and possibly one day calling him an ally, possibly even a friend. And that loss saddens me more than any morbid joke at his passing can heal.
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