I might be an asshole, but I’m an honest asshole with a clear conscience: Ted Kennedy is dead and I really don’t care about all the garment-rending going on in the press.

Ted Kennedy killed a woman in a case of vehicular manslaughter, then used his connections to first attempt to cover it up, then get it marked down like a post-Christmas sale to “leaving the scene of an accident”. How such a coward could be lionized for his lack of testicular fortitude, I do not know. The death of Mary Jo Kopechne was an accident, but his actions at the time of and in the weeks following the accident were beyond the pale. Poor, scared rich kid gets strings pulled to make the whole thing go away. Shameful.

The most important thing Edward Kennedy ever did for America was to be born with the right surname, a name he exploited more and more as each (more famous, more useful) family member succumbed to tragedy.

I admit, I do feel bad for the Kennedy-Shriver clan, as they just lost (the far more moral and useful) Eunice a little over a week ago. They must be going through a hard time right now.

But as for Teddy himself, at every turn he sought to undermine American values. He undermined the troops in Vietnam. Subverted the country and worked with the Commies during the Cold War. Was a total NIMBY when it came to his pious devotion to care for the planet. Aided and abetted the murderers, rapists, drug addicts and other assorted felons in his own family.

And now he’ll be buried in Arlington National Cemetery. What an insult that would be to his brother John, who not only served in the US Navy but was blown out of his boat in an attack. Teddy, on the other hand, was shielded from duty by his father. Much as the left accused President Bush of being. I wonder how they’ll feel if the Bush family requests his burial at Arlington.

Klansman/Senator Robert Byrd is calling for the health reform bill - which touts a system no one in the House or Senate would be obliged to use - to be named after Kennedy, thereby making the death of his colleague into a political point grab. Classy.

Stacy McCain has an excellent roundup, and calls for today - August 26, 2009 - to be named as Mary Jo Kopechne Memorial Day, in honor of drunken Ted’s fatal error of judgment.

My final word is as a Catholic: It is hoped that Kennedy made his full confession to God. He never took public responsibility for the death of Mary Jo Kopechne, but one hopes he took private responsibility for it. It is not for mankind to forgive, because forgiveness is divine. We can try, but in my case, I have failed. I’ll discuss that failure with God, in the same manner I hope Kennedy discussed his failings. Otherwise he will spend eternity trapped in an airless car, submerged in the shallow water of Chappaquiddick, gasping for air.

CPAC 2008, Washington DC

This pic of me and Robert Novak was taken 16 months ago, at the Omni Shoreham in Washington. It was a cocktail before dinner, and Bob had been knocking back straight scotch, just like all the good newsmen of his generation.

I turned to my then-husband and said “That man is the undead.” Months later that was confirmed, when Novak was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer.

Robert Novak, Prince of Darkness and old-school journalist, died today at the age of 78.

Yo Quiero, little Taco Bell Dog.

see more dog and puppy pictures

(and because I know I’m going to get at least half a dozen comments from people that think this is MY chihuahua, it’s not. It’s the famed Taco Bell spokesdog - Bug is still alive and well and rustling up cat turds for a snack)

This is hilarious, and somewhat touching. I know this (totally hot) guy in London who got it into his head on Friday to stage a “Mass moonwalk” in front of London’s Liverpool Station. Rented speakers, blocked off the street, and thousands of people showed up to pay tribute to Michael Jackson and to dance in the street.

Lunatic. But at least he’s a resourceful lunatic, because I sure as heck couldn’t have pulled something like that off on short notice. We should bring him over to America to help us organize the Tea Parties next weekend! Well done, Milo.

Bettie Page, the brunet pinup queen with a shoulder-length pageboy hairdo and kitschy bangs whose saucy photos helped usher in the sexual revolution of the 1960s, has died. She was 85.

Pinup Queen, Dead at 85

The greatest pinup girl of all time, page gave up her life as dominatrix and porn photo star to preach the gospel of Christ on street corners. Not that she gave up making the money. She took hold of her image and turned it into a multi-million dollar industry, licensing everything from posters to pens.

Because of that, the lovely Bettie Page will be with us forever, and her image will continue to thrill.

I’m so glad I got to be in the room for this.

Tomorrow’s Brass Balls Radio show is dedicated to this very great, very kind man.

Today is a sad day. My favorite comedian, George Carlin, has passed away at the age of 71.

Known for his edgy, provocative material, Carlin achieved status as an anti-Establishment icon in the 1970s with stand-up bits full of drug references and a routine about seven dirty words you could not say on television. A regulatory battle over a radio broadcast of his “Filthy Words” routine ultimately reached the U.S. Supreme Court.

So here is his most famous routine, The Seven Words you Can’t Say on Television. NOT safe for work! But fuck ‘em. Watch it anyway.

Editor, columnist, novelist, debater, TV talk show star of “Firing Line,” harpsichordist, trans-oceanic sailor and even a good-natured loser in a New York mayor’s race, Buckley worked at a daunting pace, taking as little as 20 minutes to write a column for his magazine, the National Review.

Yet on the platform he was all handsome, reptilian languor, flexing his imposing vocabulary ever so slowly, accenting each point with an arched brow or rolling tongue and savoring an opponent’s discomfort with wide-eyed glee.

“I am, I fully grant, a phenomenon, but not because of any speed in composition,” he wrote in The New York Times Book Review in 1986. “I asked myself the other day, `Who else, on so many issues, has been so right so much of the time?’ I couldn’t think of anyone.“

Man, that oughta go on his tombstone. That is a classic quote.

RIP.

Update: Take a few moments to read the individual tributes over on NRO’s The Corner. Just for today, mind you. The blog world moves on…

Canada lost one of its greatest talents today.