R.I.P. Andrew Breitbart

I'm not sure that I have much more to add concerning the sudden and sad departure of Andrew Breitbart from the world. Stacy McCain sums him up this way:

He may have been the greatest genius I’ve ever met, with a keen, intuitive mind. Although he had been diagnosed with attention deficit disorder — he had a freewheeling quality about him, and his schedule was quite improvisational – Breitbart was also capable of a laser-like focus on whatever subject captured his interest. There were times you’d be talking to him and, if that spark of passionate interest hit, his luminous blue eyes would glow with an intensity that was almost frightening.

I guess for me, Breitbart was sort of a post-modern William F. Buckley:  fearless, charming when necessary and ruthless, too, but always a happy warrior for the conservative cause and entertaining as hell. You can read any number of tributes to Breitbart around the internet today, along with a few nastygrams, too (n.b., the link is NSFW). But one of the nicest comments came from Josh Marshall, who in some ways has built a portside version of the same sort of New Media empire that Breitbart did:

There are some people who live for the fight. It’s something I try not to be part of. Yet it’s a big, punchy, vivid and outrageously honorable tradition in the American public square. I cannot think of many people who lived more out loud than he did, more in primary colors. I remember thinking at some points even the name — the way it rolls off your tongue — has this rough, brickbat, unsmoothable sound: Breit / Bart.

And more:

Beneath all the layers of our public life, we’re sons, daughters; parents to sons and daughters: naked people at our most vulnerable, true moments. This is way, way too young to die, something I know palpably since Breitbart was only a week or so older than I am.

Marshall understands it well -- no matter the swords we wield, or the masks we don, we share humanity. And it's a fragile thing.