Reagan is dead. And, in case you’ve been living under a rock for the last five years or so and missed the bi-yearly news updates about the ex-president slipping ever farther away… sheesh.

As when Nixon shuffled off this mortal coil, I’m torn between a complete blase “eh”, not wanting to speak terribly ill of the dead, and wanting to stand up and smack all the posthmous ass kissers.

The sainthood of the recently dead is a puzzlement to me. If I cared about them when they were alive, I am saddened by their demise. If I didn’t care one way or another when a person was alive; chances are, I won’t care one way or another when they kick off.

That all being said, I wouldn’t wish the the slow dissolution of a loved one one *anyone*, but that’s as far as it goes.