When Idiots Finally Die

Ted Kennedy passed away Wednesday from brain cancer. I often hear people use the old adage “don’t speak ill of the dead.” Well I’m sorry; the man was a drunken liberal nut job. If he weren’t part of the great Kennedy dynasty his butt would’ve been rotting in prison for all these years after crashing into that river with that broad back in the day. There I said it. People don’t like to hear the truth spoken about dead people, and that’s weird to me. I may not speak ill of them, but I’m certainly not going to lie either. There are people I know walking around this second that if they keeled over tomorrow I’d walk by there casket and think to myself, “geez he was an asshole.” If that’s not human I don’t know what is. I’m not gonna cry over Ted Kennedy, or the King of Pop for that matter as I’ve got my opinions on him too, and they aren’t good. I try to live my life by that old phrase “give them their roses while they are alive.” I like that one, and I try to do so as often as possible. I want no regrets when someone close to me dies, I want them to know how much I love and appreciate them before they die. If they think I’m a jerk they can say it to my face… while I’m in my casket of course.