The first column I ever penned for The Hub was an obituary, for the late Norm Macdonald, and I didn’t expect it would become a pattern. As I said at the time, hagiography in the tear-blurred afterglow of death is a cheap trick, and this won’t be that. But death has a way of clarifying. It strips away the noise, forces us to see what mattered.
Charlie Kirk was assassinated on Wednesday. The influential young conservative was shot in the middle of doing what defined him: sitting under a pop-up tent, on a folding chair, taking questions from strangers who came to argue with him. It was political theatre at its most democratic. He offered no filter, no staffer whispering talking points, no protection from the rough-and-tumble of real debate. And for that, he was gunned down.
