Herman Cain 1945-2020

I find myself kind of torn up in a really weird way over the death of Herman Cain.

I hold this view that I don’t speak ill of the dead. I don’t wish death on somebody or engage in the cruel buffoonery that people like to do when they celebrate somebody dying or getting ill. I find that kind of behaviour really sickening frankly. I figure that if you’re getting your jollies up about the death of another human, you’re not doing this human thing correctly.

I can understand not wishing them well, even thinking their death might be just, but dancing around the fire like a caveman who just busted another chieftan’s skull like a pomegranate? Not really OK. If you hated them in life, it’s best to just resign oneself in your mind to their death and say nothing. Let go of the rage and let it die with them as it’s no good to you anymore.

And yet I find Cain so particularly infuriating, and whenever I see him I feel my hatred for the great GOP using him as a sync. He’s not the only one I have that kind of reaction towards. Mitch McConnell inspires it that much more viscerally. He lived as an embodiment of everything putrid and gross about American conservatism.

So when it comes to Cain’s death I find myself struggling with my own ball and chain of general hatred and find myself resistant to talk or even think much about it lest I out myself as a massive hypocrite.

It’s a weird feeling.

Painful.

I don’t like it.

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