There isn't anything much to celebrate, though I'm not at all unhappy to see the last Kennedy of prominence take a trip to hell.
He was nothing but a drunken windbag, not nearly as bad as his snotty brother Bobby.
I just wish it had been slow, in an air pocket, trapped against the rear window of an Oldsmobile.
I hope that doesn't sound heartless. If anyone actually misses him, they have my sympathy.