So, I’ve been pretty quiet for a year; No, I didn’t fall off the porch and break my hip. Sometimes I have to take a nap. In any case, I’m awake again, and by God, Andrew Breitbart dropped dead of a heart attack. While I’ve shed no tears, and I am rather glad he’s out of our hair now, I don’t feel any need to be caustic about it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t roll my eyes at the wing nuts who are crying “Murder! Murder most foul!”
Me, I’m anticipating when Fred Phelps leaves this vale of tears a bit sunnier with his death. I think I’ll make a pilgrimage to his grave to spit on it.