Larry Is Dead

Let’s be honest - no tears were shed when Larry McMillan died because Larry McMillan was an asshole and assholes do not get the luxury of having people feel sad about losing them. Good, hard working people are mourned. Children are mourned. Not assholes. Assholes go into the ground and nobody thinks twice about it because nobody really thought about them to begin with. I’m pretty certain that nobody is going to go to his funeral. He might not even have a funeral. If a funeral happens and nobody cares, was Larry really ever alive to begin with?

The answer, unfortunately for everyone he met, is a very resounding “yes.” Larry McMillan made most of the lives he touched ever so much more miserable by his presence. Chelsea Went, who fucking likes everyone, and I mean everyone, once told Mindy Dean that she thought that Larry was “weird and [smelled] kind of bad.” There is strong evidence that his parents didn’t even like him all that much as they were ever so eager to bring up his brother Charles at dinner parties and back-to-school nights, and barely mentioned Larry at all. Even Stan Greenfield didn’t care for him, and Stan Greenfield was supposed to be his best friend.

I’m not going to feel sorry for Larry. I’m not going to cry because of what happened. I care that he is gone, but I care because I think that the world is now a better place for it. Because now we no longer have to live with his presence. We can all now breathe a collective sigh of relief.

It is concerning, therefore, that people are now starting to think that Larry was a good person. You might stop being an asshole when you die but that’s only because you’ve stopped existing. Larry sucked through and through up until his last breath and everyone knows it. Or at least they knew it until a few days ago. Now everyone wants to talk about what a great fucking guy he was. It’s all bullshit because people should be remembered for who they were and not for who we, collectively, hoped they might become. And we all hoped that Larry might one day be, I dunno, hit over the head or something, and magically become a new and kind and decent person. But that never happened. He started out life as a garbage person and remained a garbage person until late last Saturday night. It was either late Saturday night or early Sunday morning. Apparently when a person bleeds out it can be hard to tell just exactly when they died.

I’m not going to feel sorry for you, Larry McMillan. Others might. Not me.

You’re dead. And I’m alive. And I’m happy.