I’m won't to pretend to grieve, and I won't dance, either. A man died suddenly at 71. But Graham was a US senator for 23 years, and senators get judged, not eulogized, by the likes of me. *So let’s judge.*
July 13, 2026

Lindsey Graham spent Friday in Kyiv, shaking Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s hand on his tenth wartime visit to Ukraine. He spent Saturday evening on the phone with Donald Trump. By Sunday morning he was dead at 71, and Trump was on Truth Social telling the world it “could’ve been his last call”—because of course the unholiest, emptiest, piss-sack-of-a-man has to even make others’ obituaries about Donald Trump.

There it is, folks. Graham’s whole career in thirty-six hours.

One of best things he ever did, honoring his onetime posture as a serious man who understood and fought for crucial international relationships and institutions. And the newer, lesser Lindsey. The one who couldn’t wait to call his prom date Donald afterwards, for what became one last low-minded conversation with the gaudy, jingoistic jester to whom he ultimately sold his stature and legacy the last decade of his life.

The first in line with the far-from-perfect, but-at-times useful moderate-conservative he was (see his onetime fight for immigration reform). The other, soulless, MAGA-adjacent jackal talking to Trump about God only knows what. To read the rest of this important analysis, go to Blue Amp Media!

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