We're So Happy You're Dead

I was having (too many) drinks last night with friends and I have to say that -- even early on in the evening, before the booze took over -- there was palpable joy over the death of Abu Musab al Zarqawi. (I'm even happier today, as it's being reported that he died in American custody.) We raised our glasses to the death of Zarqawi more than once, and we exchanged high fives and smiled widely. It made me wonder the last time -- if ever there was a time -- I was so happy about someone dying.

I mean, sure, there was that old bat Mrs. Casey, my Grade 7 science teacher. I wished death on her every day. She died eventually, but it took a couple of years.

But on a grand scale, Zarqawi probably ranks up there with some of the worst people to die during my lifetime. There was Pol Pot, who died an old man, and Nicolae Ceauşescu, who died the undignified death he deserved, and a host of other dictators, murderers and others who deserved nothing less than to have their lives ended. (This sentence comes to you, for what it's worth, from someone opposed to the death penalty.)

While it's unlikely Zarqawi will make any top-10 list of the worst people ever to live, I can't help but join my fellow Americans in being overjoyed -- ecstatic, even -- at the news of his death.