What to do when a bad person dies

Nostalgia's a hell of a drug, and nobody is immune. When I was a kid, I was very much a Hulk Hogan fan. He was never my favorite, but it's undeniable that the boom he created and his time on top was responsible for me being a pro wrestling fan at all. Most wrestling fans created in the 1980s or 1990s were, more than likely, exposed to the sport through levers that were created by the mere existence of Hulk Hogan (or his popularity).

Hulk Hogan is, more than likely, the most popular, influential and successful professional wrestler in the history of popular culture. That's a fact that you can state, and not have it be laudatory or emotional.

Hulk Hogan was, by his own thoughts, words, deeds, and admissions, a virulent and unrepentant racist of the worst kind, a union-buster, a pathological liar (even beyond the scope of kayfabe and "protecting the business"), and someone who was gleefully willing to throw any person, career, or livelihood under the bus at his merest whim. These are also facts!

As one of the only people with a legitimate claim to the title of "wrestling journalist," Sean Ross Sapp, put it:

When a bad person dies, you do not, under any circumstances, gotta hand it to 'em.

In the 13 years since Hogan's racist sex tape was released (and the years following his successfully suing Gawker with the help of Pete Thiel, dismantling pretty much all of modern journalism in the process), I've had to listen to and watch endless people inside and outside of the wrestling business gush about how much Hogan means to them and their lives, and have watched WWE put out reams and reams of Hogan merchandise. A minimum of six different Hulk Hogan figures have been on Target and Walmart shelves every year since he dropped the hard Rs and admitted he is a racist. Every corporation has said, "hey kids! Put a Hulk Hogan figure in your room!" because people who were kids in the 1980s and 1990s simply cannot handle even a moment of having to grapple with introspection, let alone having to admit that maybe they don't have to love a thing for their entire lives just because they loved it when they were eight. It is, frankly, sickening.

It's fine if you enjoyed Hogan at a certain age. It's even fine to revisit those memories or videos and admit that you still get that nostalgia hit. But by no means do you have to celebrate a bad person. You do not have to offer a thought, or a prayer. You do not have to buy Hogan tribute merch because the proceeds go to his family. Hulk Hogan's family has enough fucking money, and that is part of the problem.

I live my life trying my best to be a good person. I hope my loved ones think of me fondly when I'm gone. I'll be lucky if they do. Hogan lived his life being selfish, racist, mean, and spiteful. His family became rich beyond belief because of it. They, I'm sure, will remember him fondly, and lovingly. That should be all he deserves, but unfortunately there will be millions of people still happily willing to pour millions of dollars into his merchandise and memorabilia, forever, just because they smiled when he did a legdrop when they were in elementary school.

No one ever said the world was fair. Hulk Hogan would have been the first person to tell you as much. You want justice in this world? You want the good people to come out on top? That doesn't work for him, brother.