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Facebook Idiot of the Week
Week 305: It's the most wonderful time of the yeeear...
There's only one thing that could make me happy in a week where my laptop died, forcing me to replace the hard drive, replace Windows and spend money on data recovery, just one thing: Andrew Breitbart's death. I didn't know until it happened, but Andrew Breitbart passing away from a cocaine crystal meth gay sex explosion turned my frown upside down. Who knew the best birthday gift I could ever have would come five days late? Nonetheless, to say I was excited by Breity (my nickname for him I just made up)'s death is an understatement. I could refrain from speaking ill of the dead, but fuck it. I never fail to speak ill of the dead, especially when the fucker deserves it, like Andy Breitbart does. He was (I love that I can now refer to him in the past tense!) a puffy, bloated caricature of a human being, aged prematurely by booze, coke, rage and sucking so much right-wing dick he got throat cancer for his troubles. He deserved to die, and his children either deserved a father who wasn't a water carrier for oligarchy or they didn't deserve to be brought into this terrible world at all. But I'll leave my eulogy for another article. The point of Facebook Idiot, I'm pretty sure, is to find idiots and then laugh at them. Breitbart's demise brought a lot of idiots out of the woodwork.
That Andrew Breitbart had friends devalues the entire concept of friendship. If MF DOOM is correct and friends are only there if they need something, then what purpose did Breitbart's serve? Male concubines, maybe. Coattail riders/dick riders, definitely. There's a common theme in a lot of the weepy writeups from associates of Breitbart, that he was always there for you, was a good drinking (ginger ale) buddy, plucked many untalented conservative "writers" from the minor leagues of Ace of Spades comment sections and mental institutions, but the fact that pretty much all the people going on about his greatness got paychecks from his organizations renders a lot of insincere. These are the same dicks who cheered on the Bush administration until he was out of office, then repudiated him as a liberal or pretended the last 8 years never happened. Bill Whittle had no formal connection to the Breitbart largess, so I'm wondering how the two became buddies. The most likely candidates are they shared an interest in Dungeons & Dragons or they attended the same key party. In any event, Whittle is a fucking dumbass douchebag third rate Internet TV personality I don't like, so his loss of his partner in nightcrawlers brought a smile to my ghoulish visage. He better have a suicide pact with Scott Ott and Vodkapundit or else I'll be disappointed.
As is to be expected with any death, Breity's Facebook page was flooded with asinine, poorly spelled missives by his friends, of which he surprisingly has over 4700. 4700, Jesus, I only have 103. Then again, I haven't gotten enough black people fired yet to have his kind of cultural cachet. Better get Black Goliath employed and then leak a video of him fucking 14 year old Goth girls! Anyway...
Okay, that's fucking creepy. It's one thing to take on the image of a celebrity like Michael Jackson, Pinochet, Whitney Houston, whatever. They're well known figures who at least recorded a few good pop songs back in the day. It's weird, but it's socially acceptable. But changing your profile picture to a drawing of Andrew Breitbart that makes him out to be an abstract art version of a child molester? Even wearing an iron on T-shirt of a dead black friend is less freaky. Worse yet, on Twitter people created a We Are All Andrew Breitbart hashtag, which suggests a mindless mantra like "His Name Was Robert Paulson". I'd support We Are All Andrew Breitbart if these bigoted, deadender shitheads pulled as Breitbart and died, but I digress. Devotees of Anbig Govbart changing their profile pictures in tribute of him on Facebook is a poor decision, for people who don't like him but are Facebook friends with these rapscallions will be bombarded with unwanted depictions of the ugly, bearded eggplant face of the worst thing to happen to journalism since World Weekly News closed up shop. I generally think trigger warnings on the Internet are stupid, but I'd make an exception in this case. Put a trigger warning that says something to the effect of "WARNING: ANDREW BREITBART PICTURE". Without a vodka under your belt, the image of that pustule can be quite upsetting. It's akin to waking up, completely hungover, next to a dead prostitute with a horse's head in place of a human head.
This is probably the most of Breitbart's writing I've ever subjected myself to in one dose. Breitbart is best taken via video or audio, so you can easily determined whether he's rattled, fucked up on various substances and otherwise unprepared (note: he always was). Given the quote from Righteous Indignation, Lather Bannigan's mission after the savior of Internet creeps' death is to dissuade people from reading the unholy texts. More than anything else, the excerpt proves my point that Breitbart wanted to be a celebrity and, when he failed, he decided to try to tear it all down in an attention whore sort of way. "Fuck you, Hollywood! I'm going to be a goddamn embarrassment to the human race without your help!" Who knows, a guest role on Seinfeld or a production assistant gig on Veronica's Closet could've prevented Breitbart's horrifying forays into fake journalism that ruined countless lives. From what I can tell - who knows, I might review it later in the month when I'm back to drinking vodka without mixer - Righteous Indignation is a book that ought to be buried in the desert alongside the E.T. video game. Relishing making enemies doesn't necessarily mean you're pissing off the right people; it might, and probably does, just mean you're an asshole no one likes. Keith Olbermann doesn't hate you because you're right, he hates you because you puked in his waste paper basket and kept on calling him Sexian. Fuck.
Oh for fuck's sake. The only similarities between George Washington and Andrew Breitbart are that they look fucking ridiculous to people of today and they're not against the murder of Indians. Otherwise, they're nothing alike; Washington was a general, a president, knew enough shit about strategy and tactics to keep him alive, whereas Breitbart would be the first fucking guy to die in a Night of the Living Dead situation. Not to mention the fact that there's a difference between fighting in a literal war and fighting in a cultural war that's only happening in the fevered imaginations of right-wingers too physically inept or too cowardly to engage in real combat. No, posting on Big Government isn't a revolutionary act, nor will the Attorney General prosecute you for Sedition because of an "Obama is Bill Ayers' gay black brother" conspiracy theory. Christ. It's one thing to fetishize the founding fathers; that makes sense, nationalists tend to do shit like that. But comparing a pile of pus such as Andy Breitbart to Washington...I don't even think most conservatives would go that far, in spite of most of them living in a fantasy world in which they believe cosplaying as dead people will get across their point well.
I got this last (I know!) one from Dana Loesch's creep husband's Facebook page. Apparently he has even creepier friends; it says a lot that when I looked to see if Jeff had any non-Breitbart profile pics that the vast majority of them were of bald eagles. If patriotic furries exist, Borysko's a founding father of people that should be segregated from society. The sad thing about this, other than the fact that the guy envisions himself as a bald eagle getting sexual pleasure from being pegged by a flagpole, is that he conflates "had an adult beverage with [Breitbart] a couple of times" with Breitbart having been his "pal". Look, I've drunk with many people before, and few of them are my actual friends. The fact that this guy calls BOOZE "adult beverage" all sly like means he was tempted away from ginger ale a few times and still feels subconsciously guilty. How fucking pathetic. To be fair, Jeff does cite that Breitbart's best contribution to his worthless life is allowing him to meet a bunch of buddies, most of whom are nobodies and some of whom are #1 creeps. Finding out about Troy from The Final Sacrifice lookin' Ben Shapiro is more than a justifiable reaction for celebrating Breity's death. (Guy hated Requiem For A Dream for ASS TO ASS. Come on.) God, that's so pathetic, I'd almost feel bad if I didn't know that Breitbart's entourage were, like Vince's, loveable, fame hungry douchebags, minus the loveable. Borysko, stick to the model train circuit. You won't become a conservative warrior, no matter how many Charles Atlas adverts you send in.
The outpouring of idiotic grief re: Andrew Greasebart does, it does create a sense of nostalgia from prior outpourings of histrionic dolts posting their "pain" on a social networking website. The Virginia Tech hullabaloo, Ali Raddatz mixin' herself a drink of death, even irritating atheists who overlooked that Christopher Hitchens was a war-supporting turd pale in comparison to the horrific, brain destroying collective crygasm of Breitbart's "friends" and "fans". It's funny to see the tards work themselves up into a lather about a cokehead drunk dying prematurely, but on another level it becomes a soul crushing thing, the realization that such a hateful, worthless individual has so many losers who care about him. It instills depression, alienation, hatred for the world. Fuck. The only way to improve my mood at this point, after spending several days among the retards in the mist, is making fun of famous baby Jon Gorski. Here's a starter joke: Jon Gorski's afraid of milk because only his sister volunteered to breastfeed him.