Charlie Kirk is dead. The gun he praised killed him. And the country that worships violence lit up the sky in his honor.
Charlie Kirk is dead, and America is in mourning.
Not for the child shot in a school hallway that same day.
Not for the nameless teacher whose blood soaked into a carpet in a city you’ve already forgotten.
Not for the victims of Buffalo, Uvalde, or Monterey Park.
But for Charlie Kirk.
A man who said mass shootings were an acceptable price to pay for freedom.
A man who spent his career downplaying violence and mocking the grief of others.
A man who made a brand out of minimizing death — before it came for him.
And now the system that birthed him, protected him, and profited from him is weeping like he was a saint.
Las Vegas lit up with digital memorials.
Social media flooded with eulogies.
And the sitting President of the United States used the moment not to unify a shaken nation — but to call his political opposition “extremists” and threaten to prosecute “leftist organizations.”
This is not grief.
This is grief as propaganda.
And it’s exactly how authoritarian cultures preserve power: not by mourning the innocent, but by sanctifying the instruments of violence.
Mourning as marketing
The MGM Grand in Las Vegas lit up for Charlie Kirk.
A digital tribute. A public elegy. A glowing LED halo for a man who built his platform on the idea that people — especially children — must die to keep the Second Amendment alive.
To be fair, MGM has supported the permanent memorial for the 2017 Route 91 shooting victims. But the immediate, spectacular nature of the Kirk display feels different: fast, loud, political.
It wasn’t grief.
In America, public mourning isn’t about loss — it’s about which side you’re on.
Who your base is.
Whose blood is valuable.
And whose can wash away without consequence.
Corporations don’t care who dies. They care who sells.
And Kirk, even in death, still sells to the base.
The measure of a man
Charlie Kirk was not mourned because he was kind. Or thoughtful.
He was mourned because he was useful. Because he spoke loudly to a base that sees volume as virtue, confrontation as courage, and cruelty as conviction.
People projected onto him.
He was their excuse. Their armor. Their cultural stand-in.
And when he died, they grieved not for him, but for what he represented: a shield for their unexamined beliefs, their tribal loyalty, and the toxic vision of masculinity that says strength is measured in how loudly you can dismiss other people’s pain.
These people aren’t mourning Charlie Kirk the man.
They’re mourning the echo chamber they’ve been trapped in — the cycle of provocation, reaction, and dopamine-fueled outrage that made them feel alive.
Kirk didn’t lead them with principles: he stimulated them.
His death isn’t a moment of reflection: it’s withdrawal.
They weren’t following a philosopher. They were feeding from a loop that never forced them to think — only to feel superior, angry, and justified.
And yet — Kirk likely saw himself as a patriot.
Someone fighting for what he believed America had lost.
A man guided by Biblical certainty, “traditional” values, and the myth that freedom meant never yielding.
There may have been more to him than what he broadcast. A family man. A loyal friend.
But in the public square, what he broadcast became the measure of the man.
He was the one who mocked dead children and called it courage.
Who told his followers that to feel was weakness, and to surrender was treason.
He sold certainty. And in doing so, he became the product.
Weaponization of grief
Donald Trump, the current sitting President, responded to Kirk’s death by doing exactly what he always does: he escalated.
He didn’t call for peace.
He didn’t denounce political violence.
He didn’t even wait for the facts.
He blamed Democrats. He labeled liberals “extremists.” He vowed to prosecute “leftist organizations.”
All while Democratic leaders were condemning the violence itself.
Will he call for investigations into “rightist organizations” when the killer turns out to be a republican?
This isn’t just Trump being provocative. It’s strategic.
Kirk’s death — like every act of political violence — is a tool.
Another story to feed the grievance engine. Another martyr for the movement. Another excuse to tighten control and divide the country further.
It’s not about mourning Charlie.
It’s about using him.
Full circle
If Charlie Kirk truly believed what he preached, then his death should be seen by his followers as justified. Not tragic — but necessary.
He said gun deaths were the cost of liberty.
He said we must accept that people — even children — will die so that others can keep their guns.
He called empathy weakness.
He mocked grief as performative.
He told you that this violence was worth it.
So ask yourself:
Shouldn’t you be celebrating his death?
Isn’t this exactly what he said was required?
Or is it only acceptable when it’s someone else’s child, someone else’s teacher, someone else’s blood?
The forgotten names
You want to mourn Charlie Kirk?
Then first say the names of the children he ignored.
- Columbine (1999) – 13 killed.
- Sandy Hook (2012) – 20 children, 6 adults.
- Parkland (2018) – 17 killed.
- Santa Fe High (2018) – 10 killed.
- Oxford High (2021) – 4 killed.
- Uvalde (2022) – 19 children, 2 teachers.
- Covenant School (2023) – 3 children, 3 staff.
- And hundreds more.
There have been over 600 school shootings in the U.S. in the last decade alone.
An entire generation trained to fear the sound of a fire drill.
And through it all, Kirk mocked the grief.
Blamed families.
Defended the guns.
So before you cry for him, ask yourself why you didn’t cry for them.
God Bless America
Today is September 11, 2025.
Another day of flags. Memorials. Speeches. “Never forget.”
But as I write this — on the 253rd day of the year — the U.S. has already recorded 309 mass shootings.
More than one per day.
More than 300 moments of chaos, grief, and blood.
And barely a fraction made the news.
This isn’t just broken. It’s normal now.
Japan? Zero.
Australia? Zero.
Canada? One or two.
The U.S.? Hundreds. Every year.
And the irony is staggering:
A country that once unified after planes struck buildings now shrugs when bullets strike children.
After an Iowa school shooting in 2024 left six students dead, Trump waited 36 hours to say anything.
When he finally did, his response was:
“Get over it.”
Not condolences. Not unity.
Just cruelty.
Just another command to accept the bloodshed and move on.
Unless someone famous dies, no one notices.
Unless it serves a political narrative, no one cares.
Everyone knows.
But no one stops.
That’s fucked up.
The land of the free
America is not confused. It is functioning exactly as designed.
It tolerates mass death.
It elevates provocateurs.
It worships the voice that called for blood — and forgets the silence it left behind.
Charlie Kirk was shot while defending guns.
And the machine responded by blaming his enemies.
Not the ideology. Not the weapons. Not the culture.
Pain is monetized, rage is tribalized, and authoritarianism smiles for the cameras.
Where a child can die unheard, but a pundit becomes a martyr.
If you’re wondering how we got here, you haven’t been paying attention.
This is not an aberration.
This is a blueprint — etched in blood.
This is America.
The crying game
If you mourned Charlie Kirk, ask yourself why.
Was it because he was wise? Because he brought people together? Because he made the world a better place?
Or was it because he made you feel justified? Because he gave you permission to be angry? Because he made you feel powerful in your contempt?
Would he have shed a tear for you?
So before you post another glowing tribute, ask yourself:
What exactly are you mourning?
And who taught you to cry only when your side bleeds?
Final word
Let’s be clear.
I do not condone violence. Not against Charlie Kirk, not against anyone!
This is not a celebration of his death — it is a confrontation with what made it inevitable.
Charlie Kirk’s death was not necessary.
It should not have happened.
But in a country addicted to outrage, armed to the teeth, and numbed by spectacle — why doesn’t it stop?
Why do we tolerate it?
Why is nothing done?
There may have been more to Kirk than what he sold to the world. A man of conviction. A family man.
But what he sold had consequences.
And those consequences are still with us. Nothing will change.
What happened to Charlie Kirk is tragic — but not inexplicable.
It is the predictable result of a country that glorifies violence, accepts collateral damage, and elects leaders who turn grief into ammunition.
No one deserves to die for their beliefs.
But we cannot ignore the cost of the ones who teach others to kill for theirs.
This isn’t celebration.
This is confrontation.
Because what he sold had consequences.
Etched in blood.
Algorithmic America: Tribalism and the cult of social media
This is part of a 3-part series examining the dangerous psychological and social effects of modern social media — and how platforms like Facebook, TikTok, and X have reshaped attention, identity, and ideology. A study into how platforms, group psychology, and cultural decay intersect.
Part 1: The Age of Dumbification
Part 2: All Heil the Peddler of Death
Part 3: Ode to the Second Amendment