Today, Wonketeers, we light a yahrzeit candle for the late Andrew Breitbart. Hard to believe it was only one year ago today that the big lunk gallivanted off to that Great Wine Bar in the Sky, leaving his minions in a state of mourning from which they have yet to emerge. Yes, from the Virgin King Ben to the Thing with the Llama Face to the Stupidest Man on the Internet, all across America today wingnuts will pause in their daily rabid foaming over Benghazi or Bob Woodward’s senior moment to remember the human-shaped ball of incandescent rage with a bum ticker that was Mr. Breitbart.
How does one honor such a shining exemplar of freedom? Lee Stranahan, a writer for the website now known as Ghost Andrew Breitbart’s Circle Jerk Mausoleum for Wayward Adults, wants to get the great man’s name trending on Twitter on March 1. Some people have monuments built to their achievements, statues of granite and marble carved by the greatest artists that will stand for centuries. Andrew Breitbart gets a hashtag next to his name in a million tweets, a more realistic way of teaching us that life, like time spent trending on Twitter, is fleeting.
Have you seen the movie Hating Breitbart? It is a documentary about how much people hated Andrew Breitbart. We mean, haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaated him. Here, watch the trailer so you can see for yourselves how much people haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaated Andrew Breitbart. The filmmaker has set up a couple of free screenings in New York on Friday as an anniversary tribute. We have scoured the website and the film’s Facebook page and the whole darn internet and can find nothing about where the screenings will take place. It seems seats were limited to people who emailed for tickets, at which time they were told the film’s super-secret location. We are sure the man who is so often extolled for his courage would appreciate that his followers are seemingly afraid of some mischievous Occupy protestors showing up outside a theater somewhere to tell all the brave patriots to stop raping themselves.
Speaking of Hating Breitbart, the film’s director got together for dinner in New York with some conservative luminaries ahead of the screening. We tried to imagine the conversation around the table with this group, but all our poor brain could conjure was a bunch of troglodytes wearing wooly mammoth pelts and communicating through a simple series of clicks and grunts. Also, does it look like Pam Geller and the Internet’s Dumbest Man have some smoldering chemistry? We bet she took him back to her lair, had her way with him, and then unhinged her jaw and swallowed him whole, as is the mating custom on her planet (Long Island).
Anyway, Andrew Breitbart died one year ago today at the age of just 43, which is sad. He left behind a wife and four very young children, which is also sad. But he also left behind a media empire run by hideous screeching wildebeests who rushed right from Andy’s funeral to their computers to start slapping the #war hashtag all over Twitter while vowing to continue the fight in the name of their fallen comrade, as if they were the goddamn British Expeditionary Force at the Battle of the Somme instead of a bunch of temper-tantrum-throwing children who spend all their time marinating in a toxic stew of self-righteousness and epic butthurt.
Also let us not forget the big role Andrew Breitbart played in turning Matt Drudge into the fifth-rate Walter Winchell of the internet back during Bill Clinton’s Impeachment Fun Times, after which every jerk with a modem and an opinion decided to devote his life to screaming about everything all the time in ALL CAPS and depriving the internet of some of the valuable bandwidth needed for tentacle porn. Oh sure, you can still find plenty of tentacle porn on the internet. But think of how much MORE tentacle porn you could find if not for the likes of Breitbart! Just one more link in the chain we are sure he is dragging around for all eternity.
Andrew Breitbart’s legacy is that he helped poison the public discourse with cheap stunts and flat-out lies, and he sucked up all the oxygen in a story basically by just being the loudest asshole in any room. He is not missed.