He worshipped the senate and loved to hear himself speak—yes, he was a character—but more important, and more sickening, he was the Babe Ruth of pork barreling—taking 3 billion from the taxpayers for his home state of West Virginia.
It is a legacy we should never forgive or forget.
He even built a statue of himself, this in defiance of the rules that stated you must be dead for at least fifty years. But even if no bronze likeness existed, you’d have to have Alzheimer’s to forget his name. There’s the Robert C. Byrd Expressway, Robert C. Byrd Freeway, Robert C. Byrd Institute, Robert C. Byrd Federal Building, bridges, schools, etc.
In the early days he was even worse. He joined the Ku Klux Klan and later apologized, but in 1964 he participated in the filibuster against the Civil Rights Act.
Excuse me?
He was older by then, and I thought he’d given up his racial hatred. So he didn’t? Had he been lying all this time?
So he told tall tales, took gobs of money, and then refused to retire when his mental and physical health began to decline. Giving up any chance of a dignified exit, he continued his long-winded, sometimes nonsensical rhetoric, while still keeping one hand in the pot.
Today he lies in state in the Capital Rotunda, and our black president will say a few kind words.
Incredible.
How many people can spend their lives lying and stealing billions of hard earned taxpayer money and get buried with honors in the end?
It’s been a long creepy journey.
Bye bye, Mr. Byrdie, and good riddance.
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