Whereas convention dictates only nice words be uttered about the recently departed, I subscribe to the Christopher Hitchens philosophy on eulogizing monsters: “Play the world’s smallest violin.”
(If you’re a fan of the late Jerry Falwell, that’s fine. My personal opinion is that he was a grifting charlatan who didn’t sincerely believe, or else didn’t understand, the theology he expounded for a living, to great personal enrichment. My respect for religious belief does not extend to televangelists who request money from pensioners in exchange for indulgences. “If you gave Falwell an enema, he could be buried in a matchbox,” to quote Hitchens.)
The historical canon is replete with fascinating tales of the allegedly human entity known as Dick Cheney and his behavior that made any run-of-the-mill Sicilian crime boss look like an angelcake.
My personal favorite anecdote is the time he shot his friend in the face while hunting and then forced him to apologize for the ungentlemanly act of getting in the way of his buckshot.