THE MISANTHROPE’S CORNER ■

IHAD never even heard of Dale Earnhardt until he crashed into eternity, but now here I am writing a column about him. What a country!

The outpouring of grief began at once, but this time there were some telling differences. The emotional pitch rose into the Diana-JFK Jr. range, but it was regional, confined mostly to the South, making it impossible for cultural optimists to say, “It brought us together.” Another difference lay in the spontaneous memorial: There were no piles of teddy bears on sidewalks. This inadvertently tasteful oversight owes itself to Earnhardt’s ruthless reputation as “The Intimidator” and his custom of calling anyone who was not a psychopath a “candyass.” Teddy bears, like sidewalks, moved him not.

About the Author

Florence King

Florence King was a contributing editor of National Review.

Featured Tags

IHAD never even heard of Dale Earnhardt until he crashed into eternity, but now here I am writing a column about him. What a country!

The outpouring of grief began at once, but this time there were some telling differences. The emotional pitch rose into the Diana-JFK Jr. range, but it was regional, confined mostly to the South, making it impossible for cultural optimists to say, “It brought us together.” Another difference lay in the spontaneous memorial: There were no piles of teddy bears on sidewalks. This inadvertently tasteful oversight owes itself to Earnhardt’s ruthless reputation as “The Intimidator” and his custom of calling anyone who was not a psychopath a “candyass.” Teddy bears, like sidewalks, moved him not.