I don’t advocate violence in any form, and I would never wish physical harm on anyone. Whatever war is out there, I’m against it. I’m a pretty easygoing and gentle kinda guy, and it takes a lot to get on my bad side. For me to write you off, you must have fucked up somethin’ awful. As a matter of full disclosure, let me say that I’m as capable of intense dislike — I wouldn’t go so far as hate — as any other reasonable person on this planet. Still, whatever a person does, I’d never advocate violence against him or her as a matter of principle. So about the worst you’ll get from me is a spot on my unofficial list of people I’d never kill but wouldn’t be at all upset to learn that they died.

I bet you’d be upset with all that buildup if no one died, but happily (?) one of my least favorite people in the world did. The Rev. Jerry Falwell, him of the-purple-teletubby-is-gay and 9/11-was-caused-by-the-ACLU-and-International-Faggotry fame, is dead at the age of 73. Quoting my friend Eric, “Sadly, he died in his office, not in the company of a male prostitute.” And our colleague A.: “He was just an old man with a bad heart. Pun intended.”

I could go on for pages listing the awful things this douche said when he was alive, but if you follow the news in the slightest you already know enough. My overall beef with him is that he thought he could get away with peddling the vilest filth and hatred, so long as it was wrapped in the name of Jesus, an Italian suit, and a $200 haircut. He was one of those guys who turned me off organized religion for good. Christianity was a beautiful thing before the Christians got hold of it.