The creator of The Family Circushas died at age 89. I don't (often) enjoy speaking ill of the dead, but the mediocre, sanitized circles of contempt that this man unleashed upon the Earth every day for decades are unforgivable.
Even worse: For as long as shitty small-town newspapers manage to eke out their meager operation costs from advertisers, Keane's horrible legacy will continue to stain comics pages around the nation. The Family Circus has survived him. The Family Circus, with its horrible conservative agenda and fawning worship of the inane, will survive us all. And that's all Bil Keane's fault. He may have been a warm and caring human being, but his legacy is made of shit and terror and self-loathing. A man has died, and that's a shame. But I cannot celebrate the disgusting "art" on which he built his fortune. I wish it died with him.