Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Oh, the theater of selective mourning. Republicans, masters of performative patriotism, have once again reminded us that grief is not universal—it’s transactional. When lawmakers in Minnesota were brutally murdered, the MAGA megaphones didn’t so much as whisper. No flags lowered, no moments of silence, no performative Bible verses hastily tweeted. Just crickets. Apparently, their lives didn’t count. Wrong party, wrong narrative, wrong “team.”

But now, with Charlie Kirk’s death, suddenly America must stop, weep, and genuflect. Flags are lowered, outrage is dialed up to eleven, and the GOP faithful are on the internet pounding their keyboards in righteous fury. “We must take action!” they scream. Action against whom? Oh, that’s easy: anyone who looks different, thinks differently, or dares to vote for a Democrat. Because in their world, mourning is never about the dead—it’s about finding a new excuse to target the living.

The hypocrisy here is not just obvious—it’s blinding. These are the very same people who dismissed mass shootings as the “cost of freedom.” They’re the ones who scoffed at grief from Sandy Hook, who rolled their eyes when parents begged for reform after Uvalde, who called Las Vegas just another tragedy on the endless ticker of American carnage. And let’s not forget Charlie Kirk himself, who loudly and proudly declared that empathy for victims of gun violence was weakness. Weakness! Something not to be honored, not to be recognized. But now? Now that he’s the one in the casket, suddenly compassion is mandatory.

Republicans want a national display of reverence for a man who mocked the very idea of mourning. The irony is staggering. They ignored the blood in Minnesota, dismissed the slaughter of children in schools, and shrugged off families torn apart in churches, grocery stores, and malls. But Charlie Kirk? For him, the flags must come down, and anyone who doesn’t bow low enough risks being labeled an enemy of the state.

So here we are, watching a party demand empathy for someone who preached against it, insist on reverence for someone who scorned it, and weaponize his death to fuel the same culture wars he profited from in life. It’s not mourning—it’s branding. It’s not grief—it’s strategy. And the only thing more predictable than their hypocrisy is the speed with which they’ll turn this into a license to hate even harder.