Forty-five years ago today an extrajudicial murder in Bolivia ended the life of the psychopath known as Che. I'll never give my approval to such actions, but the heavy irony that he died that way after overseeing the sham trials and extrajudicial murders of thousands of others leaves me coldly indifferent to his.
His image remains as quite useful for identifying a fair number of the tools and assholes who would see us follow the same murderous and dismal path that Che helped Cuba down. I find it astonishing that some people buy and proudly wear or display stuff with his image printed on it, or that someone of such(former) stature as a Robert Redford would treat him sympathetically, but there it is.
My thoughts today lie with Che's victims, and perhaps those unknowns who are alive today because he got whacked in rural Bolivia forty-five years ago. To Hell with the totalitarians, as always.