Good on Ya, Molly

Sometimes it seems there ain't no justice in this world. Molly Ivins died Wednesday. The greatest contemporary political satirist and rabid bleeding-heart liberal, a real American freedom fighter, succumbed to breast cancer at the age of 62. She was nothing if not politically incorrect--the best kind of liberal--and knew how to cut to the heart of the most maddening and spiteful of situations with humor and hope. And not just a little bit of bitingly true, painfully funny criticism of American politicians of all persuasions.

She was my heroine. Of all the columnists, and pundits, and social commentators today decrying the War in Iraq and the "Shrub" administration, not to mention various and sundry governmental follies over the past three decades, only Molly's words consistently left you with the unshakable and optimistic feeling that you had just mined a vein of truth. And occasionally made you want to wet your pants or weep from her down-home, backwoods Texan, unadulterated wit.

With every word I've ever written on Chicago Carless, I've thought to myself, "How would Molly say this?" Whatever she wrote was simple, and direct, and candid. No room for subject-dancing, no patience for soft-shoeing, no remorse for sensibility-offending.

She spoke her mind with no excuses and no apologies and she did it because she cared about the world we all have no choice but to live in together. She spoke her mind because she cared deeply about us, her fellow citizens. Should they ever designate a bodhishattva of American politics, look no further than here.

Good-bye, Molly. I will miss your words dearly. Thanks for helping me find mine.

I know somewhere up in heaven, Ann Richards is setting a special place at the dinner table this week.