From DU: "Only the death of a fascist icon could start the worst and most divisive flame wars since the primaries.
You want to be an apologist for despotic right-wing big government, perpetual war, enrichment of the super-rich at the expense of the poor and middle class, and televised mind-slavery, you go right ahead. I myself will stick to advocating for the underdogs like liberals normally do. When you defend Reagan, you defend his bitter legacy. Death and illness do not absolve him of his crimes.
Reagan was the ultimate overdog. Or perhaps that should be, in honor of his Nazi buddies at Bitburg, Überdog.
The only disgust any of you should feel is why fellow so-called liberals express surprise and grief at those of us who refuse to mourn for the passing of an empty-suited tinhorn despot.
This is a great day in history. The embodiment of Ignorant Anti-Intellectual America has passed. The godfather of neocons, who made our current shithole situation possible, is dead.
Hell, even the dumb monkeys in the 'Wizard of Oz' had the good sense to celebrate when it dawned on them the ol' witch was gone."
I saw something even more disgusting posted at a usenet news group which made me so angry I immediately unsubscribed. The vileness follows (and I warn you, people, you may need a barf bag handy):
KILLER, COWARD, CONMAN -
GOOD RIDDANCE, RONNIE REAGAN
MORE PROOF ONLY THE GOOD DIE YOUNG
Sunday, June 6, 2004
by Greg Palast
You're not going to like this. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead. But in
this case, someone's got to.
Ronald Reagan was a conman. Reagan was a coward. Reagan was a killer.
In 1987, I found myself stuck in a crappy little town in Nicaragua named
Chaguitillo. The people were kind enough, though hungry, except for one
surly young man. His wife had just died of tuberculosis.
People don't die of TB if they get some antibiotics. But Ronald Reagan, big
hearted guy that he was, had put a lock-down embargo on medicine to
Nicaragua because he didn't like the government that the people there had
elected.
Ronnie grinned and cracked jokes while the young woman's lungs filled up and
she stopped breathing. Reagan flashed that B-movie grin while they buried
the mother of three.
And when Hezbollah terrorists struck and murdered hundreds of American
marines in their sleep in Lebanon, the TV warrior ran away like a whipped
dog ... then turned around and invaded Grenada. That little Club Med war was
a murderous PR stunt so Ronnie could hold parades for gunning down Cubans
building an airport.
I remember Nancy, a skull and crossbones prancing around in designer
dresses, some of the "gifts" that flowed to the Reagans -- from hats to
million-dollar homes -- from cronies well compensated with government loot.
It used to be called bribery.
And all the while, Grandpa grinned, the grandfather who bleated on about
"family values" but didn't bother to see his own grandchildren.
The New York Times today, in its canned obit, wrote that Reagan projected,
"faith in small town America" and "old-time values." "Values" my ass. It was
union busting and a declaration of war on the poor and anyone who couldn't
buy designer dresses. It was the New Meanness, bringing starvation back to
America so that every millionaire could get another million.
"Small town" values? From the movie star of the Pacific Palisades, the
Malibu mogul? I want to throw up.
And all the while, in the White House basement, as his brain boiled away,
his last conscious act was to condone a coup d'etat against our elected
Congress. Reagan's Defense Secretary Casper the Ghost Weinberger with the
crazed Colonel, Ollie North, plotted to give guns to the Monster of the
Mideast, Ayatolla Khomeini.
Reagan's boys called Jimmy Carter a weanie and a wuss although Carter
wouldn't give an inch to the Ayatolla. Reagan, with that film-fantasy
tough-guy con in front of cameras, went begging like a coward cockroach to
Khomeini pleading on bended knee for the release of our hostages.
Ollie North flew into Iran with a birthday cake for the maniac mullah -- no
kidding --in the shape of a key. The key to Ronnie's heart.
Then the Reagan roaches mixed their cowardice with crime: taking cash from
the hostage-takers to buy guns for the "contras" - the drug-runners of
Nicaragua posing as freedom fighters.
I remember as a student in Berkeley the words screeching out of the
bullhorn, "The Governor of the State of California, Ronald Reagan, hereby
orders this demonstration to disperse" ... and then came the teargas and the
truncheons. And all the while, that fang-hiding grin from the Gipper.
In Chaguitillo, all night long, the farmers stayed awake to guard their kids
from attack from Reagan's Contra terrorists. The farmers weren't even
Sandinistas, those 'Commies' that our cracked-brained President told us were
'only a 48-hour drive from Texas.' What the hell would they want with Texas,
anyway?
Nevertheless, the farmers, and their families, were Ronnie's targets.
In the deserted darkness of Chaguitillo, a TV blared. Weirdly, it was that
third-rate gangster movie, "Brother Rat." Starring Ronald Reagan.
Well, my friends, you can rest easier tonight: the Rat is dead.
Killer, coward, conman. Ronald Reagan, good-bye and good riddance.
Greg Palast is author of the New York Times bestseller, The Best Democracy
Money Can Buy. www.GregPalast.com