The Judge Is Dead

When the news of Tony Scalia's death flashed across my screen in our home office, I shouted for Darwin.  "You have to come in here right now!  Right now!"

Darwin wouldn't come in from whatever he was doing, so I dashed out and dragged him into the office.  "No way!" he said

Darwin isn't one for celebrating the death of someone else, no matter how horrible the person might be, but I feel no such compunctions.  Scalia's death and his impact on US law has been endlessly dissected elsewhere, so I won't do it again here except to say that a number of Scalia's rulings and pronouncements have had touched and hurt me and my family personally.  So I shouted for joy when I saw he was dead, Dead, DEAD.  It was a great relief to know that he would never, ever again make a ruling that hurt me, or use his position to make a hurtful speech that got national attention.

His death put me in a good mood for days.  I sang "Schadenfreude" from AVENUE Q and laughed several times over the thought of his funeral.  He was a terrible, cruel man.  I don't care in the slightest that he and Ruth Ginsberg were fond of each other or that he had a family.  He also probably kissed puppies.  So what?  He damaged me and mine in palpable, painful ways.  When an abuser dies, his victims are under no compunction to say nice things about him just because he took Grandma shopping on Sundays.

I am pleased at his passing and look forward to reading about his funeral service.