Vanity Fair Depicts 'Righteous Fighter' Breitbart as 'American Caesar'
Over fourteen months since his untimely passing, Andrew Breitbart is alive, well, and dwelling within the heads of left-wing journalists. The latest proof of Breitbart's ability to continue to mess with the lib-pundit class comes in the form of a Vanity Fair column by James Wolcott:
He came, he saw, he conquered, he keeled over. To his legions of admirers and loyal consuls, the publisher, punditeer, and lightning rod Andrew Breitbart was an American Caesar cut down in his prime. A righteous fighter who brought the battlefield with him wherever he went, Breitbart feasted on the lily livers of liberals and burped in their faces, just for fun.
Wolcott's vitriolic rant -- not-so-cleverly disguised as a dispassionate column -- seems to go out of its way to try to anger Breitbart's fan base by ridiculing the way they honored his memory after his death:
In death, Breitbart’s name and image transmigrated into Che Guevara legend. i am breitbart, declared his mourners in far-flung solidarity, his scowling visage plastered in black and white across the conservative blogosphere like a vengeful Holy Ghost. He was eulogized as the Samuel Adams of the Tea Party movement, his head superimposed onto a portrait of the Founding Father. cpac 2013, coinciding with the first anniversary of his death, was a Breitbart jamboree. “Andrew Breitbart was the coolest thing at the first day of cpac, even though he’s dead,” reported Elspeth Reeve for the Atlantic Wire. “On Thursday, there were three events to celebrate Breitbart, the conservative provocateur who died a year ago, and they were filled with fanboys.” The National Bloggers Club touted the Breitbart Scholarship Fund, intended to encourage aspiring insurgents to pick up the torch of liberty and run naked through the lobby with it.
Wolcott goes on to try to make the argument that this site, the conservative blogosphere, and the tea party as a whole are all falling apart since Breitbart's death. Whatever. It's good to know Mr. Wolcott cares. How nice is it to know that when Wolcott's head hits the pillow at night and when he wakes up in the morning, he's haunted by the memory of Andrew Breitbart?