His first true eye-opening experience came during the Clarence Thomas hearings, when he was stunned to find the media – the same media that had defended Bill Clinton’s sexual misconduct with the fiery sword of righteousness – jumping on Thomas with both feet. Andrew could never tolerate bullies, and the bully tactics of the thug media bothered him to no end.
He soon realized that it wasn’t a single case. It was systemic. And it had to be fought. That’s when he hooked up with Matt Drudge. That’s when he honed his political philosophy, which was iconoclastic and individualist, but eternally optimistic. Andrew never despaired of the country. He despaired of our political leaders, but never our people.
And most of all, Andrew wasn’t afraid. The left assaulted time and time again. They attacked him out of context on the Sherrod issue. They called him a racist. They said he was an angry man – an absurd characterization for anybody who knew him. Andrew’s emotions were written on his face almost constantly, and injustice angered him – but overall, he was incredibly joyful. That’s why people loved him.
And he taught us not to be afraid. He stood for citizen journalism, and told us that it was our job to do what the media wouldn’t. He empowered us, rather than preaching at us. He taught us that it was okay to stand up – the sun would always rise in the morning, no matter how dark the night.
And he taught us to joke. He wore roller blades down to rallies of his political opponents to drive them batty. He went on Red Eye and poured water on himself. He had dinner with domestic terrorists Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn, and he joked about how their food was “the bomb.” That was Andrew, in the lion’s den, and having a blast doing it.
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