I don’t usually celebrate when someone dies.
Death is the great equalizer. Rich or poor, asshole or saint, every one of us eventually reaches the same finish line.
But every so often, someone lives a life that leaves the world undeniably worse than they found it. When they go, I don't mourn their demise.
To me, Lindsey "Ladybug” Graham was one of those assholes.
So no, I won’t be shedding a single tear. I won’t be lowering my flag. And I sure as hell won't be pretending this sniveling, power-hungry motherfucker was some great American simply because he finally croaked.
Good riddance to that closeted cocksucker.
Cable news is already tripping over itself to describe him as a "statesman," a "patriot," and a "bridge builder."
Such complete and total bullshit. We all know Lady G won’t be remembered because he was brave. He will only be remembered as the ignorant but useful village idiot:
Useful to racists.
Useful to authoritarians.
Useful to billionaires.
Useful to a political party that decided cruelty wasn’t a bug. It was a feature.
Every time he had a choice between doing the right thing and kissing the nearest tyrant's ass, Graham reached for his ChapStick.
Lady G once warned America about Conald Chump. Then he spent the next several years surgically attaching himself to Chump's orange backside because, apparently, dignity was less important than staying on the guest list.
That’s not leadership. That's careerism with the soul of a fucking parasite.
Graham The Cracker stood shoulder-to-shoulder with politicians who demonized immigrants, winked at white nationalism, attacked voting rights, treated Black history like a threat, and turned LGBTQ people into convenient punching bags whenever the polls demanded another culture war. Fuck him and his “legacy” very much.
While he didn’t exactly invent hate, he helped market it to the willfully-ignorant and self-centered. He wrapped hate in nationalism and patriotism, sprinkled it with Bible verses, and sold it as "family values."
That's one helluva legacy. May Graham The Cracker rot in hell.
People love saying, "Don't speak ill of the dead." But why not? Lindsey Graham never seemed to have a problem speaking ill of immigrants, LGBTQ people, political opponents, or anyone else who stood in the way of his ambitions.
Death isn’t a magical PR firm that erases a lifetime of words and deeds. And Lady Karma can be a real bitch. When she stops being tardy to the party.
Death doesn't scrub away decades of cowardice. It doesn't erase every harmful vote. It doesn't transform an amoral faggot into a beloved elder statesman. (Yeah, I said what I said. And I mean it.)
If you spent your life making other people's lives demonstrably worse, history doesn't owe you a standing ovation. It owes you an honest accounting.
The fact is Lindsey “Ladybug” Graham chose power over principle. Cruelty over compassion. Cowardice over courage. Again. And again. And again.
So while others write glowing tributes, I'll simply say this: The Senate has one fewer shameless opportunist in its hallowed halls. May the rest of his morally-bankrupt colleagues come crashing down with the house of cards they built.
Keep calm and carry on!
Clint 🌈✌️
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MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY
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Soooo well said, Clint!
BURN 🔥 IN HELL LINDSEY. MOTHER FUCKER.