Death comes for the arch liar

Gore Vidal once said his hands shook every morning until he got his fix of Watergate news, from a delivery system called a "newspaper."  I haven't seen a printed paper in months, but I experience  similar withdrawal symptoms as I wait to see each day's follies, foibles and -- oh, all right, atrocities.  What now?  Has he sold Alaska to Russia for twice what we paid?  ("A beautiful deal, absolutely the best deal, believe me.")  Is the population of Seoul fleeing to the hills?  Has all the snow melted in the Andes?  I'm always ready, and I'm never ready.

I wasn't ready for the death of Roger Ailes; plenty of fat old men are living surprisingly long lives.  Am I supposed to mourn?  The network he shaped has turned its back on the real mess in Washington, insofar as that's possible, in favor of breathless, fact-free moonshine about a poor young man who worked for the Democratic National Committee and was murdered last year in an apparent robbery (according to District of Columbia police).  According to the righzi media, Seth Rich was really a victim of the Hillary Rodham Clinton Lesbian Ninja Death Squad.  His appalled family has protested this idiocy, but who cares about their grief?  Trogs who rely on Fox for their "news" in and out of the White House are certain it's true because lock her up. 

And so in the midst of this fantasy/conspiracy extravaganza Big Daddy has died.  Fuck him and all his vile works.  Fuck him twice.  May all his pallbearers suffer hernias.  I wish I believed in hell.