Imagine dropping Joe Biden right now in the middle of Gaza, and telling him to find his way to the nearest cancer treatment center. It’d be a long, arduous, circuitous trip, because there isn’t one. Thousands of people don’t have to imagine that. They’ve lived it for the duration of Joe Biden’s presidency, and have lived a version of it ever since the Israelis imposed a blockade on Gaza in 2007, with Joe Biden’s eager acquiescence. In other words, they’ve lived, at Joe’s behest, the Hell that it would universally be thought tasteless to wish on him.

Few of those now expressing such fulsome sympathy for this mendacious, grandfatherly genocidaire had much sympathy for his victims—tens of thousands of victims, across decades, who suffered in ways that fate has spared him. Not that they’ve learned anything from the contrast, either: they’re still willing to starve and bomb and taunt and vilify the people of Gaza, even as they plead for the body and soul of old Joe.

Biden and his bootlicking handlers now demand our sympathy for him, as though in return for some great gift he had given us. In truth, there’s only one thing he can give us in compensation for what he’s done to us. He can exit the world quietly, expecting nothing more from us but indifference tinged with contempt. We have no sympathy to give him, and he only too obviously has nothing to give us but the blessing of his absence from the Earth. Let’s leave it there, and, as they say, put the past behind us—or, not so much the past itself as its co-author. I don’t mean we should forget what Joe did to Gaza. I mean we should forget him.

God bless you, Joe. Go in peace. But go.