Okay, what the actual fuck is “the Kirkiversary”?

Apparently, we’ve reached the point on the internet where the anniversary of someone’s murder is being turned into a fucking joke.

For those who somehow haven’t encountered it, “Kirkiversary” or “Kirkversary” has been circulating online as a meme surrounding the anniversary of Charlie Kirk’s death. People have been making jokes, memes, party references, and generally treating September 10 like some kind of internet holiday because that’s the day Kirk was fatally shot in 2025.

And look.

I didn’t like Charlie Kirk.

I never liked Charlie Kirk.

I disagreed with a whole fucking lot of what he said, what he advocated for, and what he represented politically.

But I don’t give a shit.

He was still a human being.

And he was murdered.

There is a difference between criticizing someone’s life, beliefs, politics, rhetoric, or public record and turning their violent death into fucking entertainment.

That distinction seems to have completely disappeared online.

And honestly?

It’s fucked up.

You don’t have to like someone to recognize that their murder is horrific.

You don’t have to respect someone’s politics to respect the fact that a human being was brutally killed.

You don’t have to mourn someone.

You don’t have to pretend you suddenly agreed with them.

You don’t even have to say anything nice about them.

But celebrating someone’s murder?

Making memes about the manner in which they died?

Turning the anniversary of their death into some kind of fucking party?

That’s another matter entirely.

And here’s the thing that really gets me.

The same people doing this would probably be horrified if the exact same behavior were directed at someone they admired.

And they’re not necessarily wrong to be horrified by that.

If conservatives celebrated the murder of a progressive activist, left-wing commentator, journalist, politician, or whatever other person they despised, I’d call that fucked up too.

I wouldn’t suddenly say, “Well, they were a terrible person, so it’s okay.”

No.

That’s not how this should work.

If your morality changes depending on whether you like the person who died, then what you have isn’t really a moral principle.

You have tribalism.

And we’ve got enough fucking tribalism already.

Because look at what happened after Kirk’s death.

You’ve got people on one side making memes about his murder and celebrating the fact that he’s gone.

You’ve got people on the other side pushing conspiracy theories, blaming entire political groups, and treating anyone who questions the dominant narrative as some kind of enemy.

And then you’ve got people somewhere in the middle saying:

Can we just fucking acknowledge that a man was murdered?

That’s where I am.

And here’s where I’m going to say something that might piss off people on both sides:

Charlie Kirk deserves justice.

Not because I liked him.

Not because I agreed with him.

Not because I think his politics were good.

Because he was a human being who was murdered.

And whoever committed that murder deserves to be held accountable through the justice system.

As of now, Tyler Robinson is accused of killing Kirk and has pleaded not guilty. Prosecutors have charged him with aggravated murder and other offenses, and the case remains ongoing.

That’s where the evidence and the legal process should take us.

And yes, I’ve seen the conspiracy theories.

Some people have suggested that the Israeli government was somehow responsible.

Others have suggested that the U.S. government was responsible.

I’m not going to pretend those theories don’t exist. They do.

But I’m also not going to sit here and tell you that they’re true.

I don’t know that.

And neither does the fucking internet just because somebody made a thirty-seven-minute YouTube video with ominous music and a bunch of screenshots.

Could there be facts we don’t know?

Of course.

That’s true of virtually every major criminal investigation.

But there’s a massive difference between saying “we should remain open to evidence” and saying “I have decided this conspiracy theory is true.”

The first is skepticism.

The second is speculation.

And I don’t think speculation helps anyone here.

Because regardless of who ultimately turns out to be responsible, if someone else was involved, they should be investigated.

If there was a conspiracy, investigate it.

If there were security failures, investigate them.

If there were institutional failures, investigate them.

If someone else knowingly helped facilitate the murder, investigate them.

And if the evidence ultimately establishes something completely different from what people currently believe, then we follow the evidence.

That’s what accountability actually means.

Interestingly, Kirk’s family is currently pursuing legal action against Utah Valley University and Utah officials, alleging security failures contributed to his death. Those are allegations in an ongoing legal matter, not established findings of criminal responsibility.

That’s the kind of shit I want.

Evidence.

Investigation.

Due process.

Accountability.

Not fucking memes about someone’s corpse.

And this is where I think the internet has completely lost the plot.

We’ve gotten so obsessed with winning political arguments that we’ve forgotten how to recognize tragedy.

Someone dies, and immediately people ask:

Was he one of us?

Was he one of them?

Can I use this to prove my political point?

Can I make a meme?

Can I dunk on the other side?

Can I blame my political enemies?

What happened to simply saying:

A person was killed. That’s fucking awful.

You don’t need a political theory for that.

You don’t need a partisan framework.

You don’t need to agree with the person.

You don’t even need to like them.

You just need to recognize that human life has value.

And frankly, this is something I think both sides of the political spectrum desperately need to remember.

Because if you celebrate someone’s death because they’re your political enemy, you are participating in the exact same culture of dehumanization that you probably claim to oppose when the other side does it.

You don’t get to demand empathy when your side is suffering and then laugh when somebody you hate dies.

You don’t get to condemn political violence when it happens to your people and celebrate it when it happens to theirs.

You don’t get to say murder is wrong only when the victim is someone you like.

That’s not morality.

That’s fucking tribalism.

And I refuse to participate in it.

I can say Charlie Kirk was wrong about things.

I can criticize his politics.

I can criticize his rhetoric.

I can criticize the organizations he built.

I can disagree with him on a massive number of issues.

And I can simultaneously say:

His murder was wrong.

His family didn’t deserve to lose him like that.

His children didn’t deserve to lose their father.

And whoever is responsible deserves to face justice.

Those statements aren’t contradictory.

They’re the bare minimum of human decency.

And maybe that’s the part that feels so fucking radical in 2026.

The idea that you can hate someone’s politics without hating their humanity.

The idea that you can oppose someone without wanting them dead.

The idea that someone can be wrong without becoming subhuman.

The idea that accountability doesn’t require cruelty.

That’s something I wish people understood.

Because Charlie Kirk isn’t going to come back.

The jokes aren’t going to change that.

The memes aren’t going to change that.

The conspiracies aren’t going to change that.

The political arguments aren’t going to change that.

A man died.

A man was murdered.

And there are people who loved him who have to live with that for the rest of their lives.

You don’t have to join them in mourning.

But maybe you can at least stop fucking laughing.

And maybe, just maybe, we can demand the same thing no matter who the victim is:

Truth.

Justice.

Accountability.

Even when the person who died is someone we never liked.

Especially then.

And Leave Erika Kirk the Fuck Alone

And while we’re fucking talking about all of this, can people please shut the fuck up about Erika Kirk?

Seriously.

Leave the woman alone.

I don’t like Erika Kirk either.

But what the fuck are we doing here?

People are trying to pry into her personal life, analyze every photograph, scrutinize every public appearance, decode her facial expressions, determine whether she’s “really grieving,” and somehow deduce whether she’s secretly having an affair with Vice President JD Vance or whoever the fuck else the internet has decided to drag into this story.

Stop.

Just fucking stop.

She lost her husband.

Whatever you think of Charlie Kirk, whatever you think of Erika Kirk, whatever you think of their politics, their organization, their beliefs, or anything else about them, there is a human being who lost her husband.

And the internet has apparently decided that her grief is now something that everybody gets to investigate.

It isn’t.

You are not entitled to somebody else’s private grief just because they’re a public figure.

You don’t get to look at a photograph and decide, “She’s not crying enough.”

You don’t get to watch a video and decide, “She’s smiling, therefore she must not be grieving.”

You don’t get to see her functioning in public and conclude, “There’s no way she’s actually devastated.”

And you certainly don’t get to turn every interaction she has with another person into evidence of some secret affair or conspiracy.

For fuck’s sake.

Grief does not have one universal appearance.

The American Psychological Association explicitly notes that there is no standard timeline for grieving and no single right way to cope with loss. People respond differently, and people can continue functioning while grieving.

Some people cry constantly.

Some people barely cry.

Some people want to talk about the person who died.

Some people don’t want to talk about them at all.

Some people withdraw.

Some people surround themselves with other people.

Some people go back to work.

Some people throw themselves into their responsibilities.

Some people laugh.

Some people smile.

Some people have moments where they genuinely feel okay.

And then they might completely fall apart later that night.

That’s fucking grief.

It’s messy.

It’s inconsistent.

It’s deeply personal.

And it doesn’t necessarily look the way you think grief is supposed to look.

Hell, someone can be absolutely fucking devastated and still have a conversation about something completely unrelated.

They can eat dinner.

They can go to work.

They can attend a meeting.

They can make a joke.

They can laugh.

They can post something online.

They can take care of their children.

They can make plans for next week.

They can continue living.

That doesn’t mean they aren’t grieving.

It means they’re alive.

And unfortunately, life doesn’t stop because somebody died.

That’s one of the cruelest things about losing someone.

The world keeps fucking moving.

Bills still exist.

Jobs still exist.

Children still need to be taken care of.

Groceries still need to be bought.

Appointments still happen.

Emails still arrive.

People still expect you to show up.

Capitalism certainly isn’t going to look at you and say, “Oh shit, you’re grieving? Don’t worry about rent this month.”

Nope.

The rent is still due.

The fucking inbox is still full.

The alarm still goes off in the morning.

Society keeps moving whether you’re emotionally ready for it or not.

And sometimes continuing to function is simply what a person has to do.

That doesn’t tell you what’s happening inside their head.

So when people start trying to “decode” Erika Kirk’s behavior, I honestly have to ask:

What the fuck do you think you’re accomplishing?

Are you helping her?

No.

Are you helping the investigation?

No.

Are you uncovering some secret truth?

Probably not.

You’re just turning a grieving human being into a character in your own true-crime fan fiction.

And that’s fucking weird.

This isn’t a Netflix documentary where you get to pause the frame and circle someone’s body language with a red marker.

She’s a person.

Not a puzzle.

Not a suspect.

Not a character.

Not an Easter egg.

Not evidence for your favorite conspiracy theory.

A person.

And the same goes for the JD Vance shit.

If two adults interact publicly, that doesn’t automatically mean they’re having an affair.

If they appear comfortable around each other, that doesn’t automatically mean they’re having an affair.

If someone smiles at someone, touches someone’s arm, stands next to someone, hugs someone, or has a private conversation with someone, that doesn’t automatically mean they’re fucking each other.

Sometimes people interact with other human beings because they’re human beings.

That’s it.

And before somebody says, “Well, I’m just asking questions”:

There’s a difference between asking a legitimate question and inventing an entire narrative because you want one to be true.

There’s a difference between skepticism and voyeurism.

There’s a difference between investigating documented evidence and treating someone’s facial expressions like clues in a murder mystery.

And there’s a difference between legitimate journalism and internet sleuthing.

If there is actual evidence of wrongdoing, then obviously investigators, journalists, attorneys, and other appropriate people can examine it.

But random people on social media don’t need to turn a widow’s life into a fucking conspiracy board.

And this goes back to the bigger point I’ve been making.

Stop making people’s grief about you.

Stop using somebody else’s tragedy as an opportunity to confirm your worldview.

Stop turning their pain into political ammunition.

Stop turning their relationships into entertainment.

Stop treating their private lives like public property.

And most importantly, stop deciding what grief is supposed to look like.

Because here’s something else people don’t seem to understand:

You can grieve someone and still live.

You can miss someone and still laugh.

You can be heartbroken and still have a good day.

You can wake up one morning and feel relatively normal and then suddenly get hit by the reality of what happened.

You can go weeks functioning perfectly well and then have one tiny thing trigger an overwhelming emotional reaction.

You can even experience moments where you’re genuinely happy.

That doesn’t erase the grief.

It doesn’t mean you “got over it.”

It doesn’t mean you didn’t love the person.

It doesn’t mean you’re secretly celebrating their death.

It means grief isn’t a fucking straight line.

The APA specifically notes that grief responses vary between people and can change over time, and that there is no one right way to heal.

So, please.

Leave Erika Kirk the fuck alone.

You don’t have to like her.

I don’t.

You don’t have to agree with her.

You don’t have to support her politics.

You don’t have to support her husband’s politics.

You don’t have to support Turning Point USA.

You don’t have to care about any of it.

But you can still say:

This woman lost her husband. Let her grieve however the fuck she needs to.

And if she wants to work, let her work.

If she wants to speak publicly, let her speak publicly.

If she wants to smile, let her smile.

If she wants to cry, let her cry.

If she wants to spend time with friends, let her spend time with friends.

If she wants to focus on her children, let her focus on her children.

If she wants to continue living her life, let her live her fucking life.

Because that’s what human beings eventually have to do.

Keep living.

Not because the person they lost didn’t matter.

But because they’re still here.

And being alive means the world keeps demanding things from you.

That’s not evidence that someone isn’t grieving.

That’s life.

And life, for better or worse, keeps fucking moving.