Speaking ill of the dead

People are celebrating widely reviled Justice Scalia’s death. Good for them. If it fills the aching emptiness of their lives to work themselves up into outraged flights of faggy eloquence, so much the better. I’ll try it out for myself, if only to avoid grocery shopping for another hour on this godlessly cold Valentine’s Day. Scalia was a hateful, evil, loathsome slug, a malignant, mendacious, outrageous mold of slime, a perverse, regressive clown who twisted language and logic into obscene balloon animals of oppression. He dedicated his entire life, and his formidable, corrupt intellect, to crushing and repressing minorities, ensuring the imprisonment and execution of innocent people, and defending archaic, draconic penalties for playing with a man’s butthole in the privacy of his own home. Dear god if there is one right I believe that this great nation of ours should protect and promote, it’s unfettered butthole exploration. Scalia is another corpse in the coffin of a waning power structure.

But he’s not only a holdover, a vile remnant or vestige of a crumbling empire, he’s also an ever present threat, almost an inherent and unavoidable product of social and moral progress. Monsters of his ilk do not predate a specific time, and we cannot wait out their extinction. Everywhere the disenfranchised gather together, every time the oppressed creature stifles his sigh, and instead lets out a roar of righteous opposition and refusal, there the seeds of ignominious reaction are sown. That reactionary temperament, which steels itself against the betterment of all, scornful of the blossoming brotherhood of a universal, free humanity, schools itself on the lessons provided by Scalia’s actions and words. Scalia proves that ignorance is capable of disguising itself as education, that souls with ignoble aspirations are often also in possession of considerable verbal dexterity. Barbaric beliefs are not always the base material out of which a progressive new man with the right thoughts is fashioned; sometimes they are the ripe fruit of deliberate, razor blade refinement. And so our resistance to hatred and bigotry must not grow soft and fat on the chunky cheese dip at Scalia’s catered funeral. We must always remember that in each of us, a potential reactionary hate monger lurks, in need of ruthless purging.

Death claims us all, but let us live in such a way that people may preserve, rather than trash, our legacy. After all, the memory of our lives in the hearts and minds of ever increasingly enlightened humanity is the only immortality available to poor mortal creatures such as we are, who face black, radiating oblivion without reason or ultimate explanation. Let us not suffer the truly infernal fate of serving as hearty chum in the feeding frenzy of scrolling sharks, those swift and clear sighted vanguards hungry for the blood of a life lived in contempt of freedom and justice. The right side of history moves in a single direction, but it has time enough, determined though it may be, to dance and fornicate on the graves of its toppled adversaries. Let us hope that the good graces of our benevolent fellows carry us over and beyond such disgraceful ends.

Author: The Empty Subject

Born curmudgeon

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