Christopher Reeve, RIP

I resisted the urge to take one last shot at Christopher Reeve this morning, when Mrs. Holmes told me of his sudden demise this morning (over bacon, the crunchiest of the six meats).

I was pleased as punch to see that Rusty Shackleford did not show the same restraint and caused me to shoot coffee at my crappy laptop's monitor in heaps of laughter. To wit:

Look, it's not so much that he was a smoothe criminal as the fact that he was a selfish prick who became a martyr, a hero, and a poster child for the Oprah-ization of America.

That's exactly why I've despised the guy ever since his instructional video, "How Not to Ride a Horse for Pampered Celebrities."

It didn't really happen until I watched his speech at the Democratic National Convention in 1996. The two memories I have of that shit-fest were Reeve's essential blaming of the GOP for his paralysis, and Al Gore's shameless use of his dead sister's smoking habits for political gain.

Reeve has been the DNC's poster child ever since - and with good reason - the Dim-O-Crat party does all it can to cripple the country with burdensome over-regulation, blatant class-warfare through the federal tax code and the general crushing of the human spirit via the "great society." It seems to fit that Reeve was their hero. RIP, Superman.