I try hard not to unfairly attack people. But we all still have, as of this moment, a constitutionally protected right to our opinion. The Bill of Rights may be in critical condition, but it still lives. Public figures can be critiqued. Erika Kirk is undeniably gorgeous. Charlie Kirk was hardly the only man who would have fallen hard for her.

Shortly after Charlie Kirk was assassinated last September 10, his grieving widow appeared on the scene. She was largely unknown to the general public before that. Now everyone knows her. We all became familiar with that unconvincing dab of the eyes. We all watched as she instructed someone to videotape her caressing Charlie's body in his coffin. We observed her early remarks, and I wasn't the only one to compare her to a younger, prettier Tammy Faye Bakker. I might have been the first, but it's a dubious honor. There was something significantly "off" about her behavior. "Everyone grieves differently," we were counseled. Erika Kirk seemed to adopt the kind of grieving process that we've seen in the wake of so many mass shooting events. To be fair, she didn't lecture us about the need for gun control. And when she walked out, accompanied by inappropriate fireworks, to headline the world's gaudiest memorial service, dressed in a nontraditional White outfit, she displayed a style of grief never seen before. It was performative art. Crisis acting, if you will.

Popular podcaster Candace Owens has been tracking Erika Kirk. She has gone so far as to employ actual investigative journalism here. The kind which is not permitted by any television network, radio station, or mainstream print periodical. Her work shows just what a real reporter can do, with the proper resources. Candace unearthed a video tape of Erika, recorded just fifteen days after her husband's assassination, where she is giggling, and absolutely giddy over what she calls "the event of the century." That would be the memorial for her dead husband. That's really an odd term to describe it, but as we are constantly told, people grieve differently. In this case, so differently that "haters" will unreasonably jump to conclusions. She also bragged about how many people attended, or watched "the event of the century," and how much merchandise Turning Point USA had sold. Extremely different grieving. Erika was so swept up in the joy of the moment that she forgot to sporadically dab her eyes for the camera.

In her blockbuster series "Bride of Charlie," Candace investigated the background not only of Erika Kirk, but also her family. We'd already seen the clips online of her telling new CBS honcho, Israeli Firster Bari Weiss, that she "never dated" during the five years she lived in New York. She also sanctimoniously claimed to be a teetotaler, boasting, "I saw vicariously through my roommate how terrible it was. Somehow, getting drinks became a replacement for having coffee or breakfast. I personally would rather have coffee or brunch with someone than go for drinks … I always thought it was very strange how she would go for drinks with one guy and then go to dinner with another." Way to throw your roommate under the bus, Erika. What a slut! Maybe you can still "save" her, though. Get her to publicly support Operation Epic Fury, and buy some TPUSA merchandise. You could send her a case of grape soda.

Erika was simply trying to maintain her cover story. Which is just hilariously outlandish. According to the myth, both she and Charlie were virgins, saving themselves for marriage. Now perhaps Charlie was. He certainly seems to have been a bit naive. But Erika? Those five years in New York, in which she supposedly never dated or drank, were filled with lots of evidence on social media suggesting otherwise. Erika was trying desperately to break into some kind of reality TV show. She tried out for The Amazing Race, along with her ex-boyfriend, a Major League Baseball player. Pro athletes are renowned for not pressuring their girlfriends for sex. She was on some kind of television dating show, openly drinking alcohol. Another ex was Cabot Phillips. Now there's an upper crust name for you. You can almost hear him exclaiming, "Capital idea!" or "I really must protest!" Okay, obviously my view of the extremely wealthy was heavily influenced by watching 1960s TV.