When the news broke of Charlie Kirk’s sudden death, shockwaves rippled across communities far beyond politics. Tributes poured in from family, friends, and even cultural icons—Neil Diamond singing softly at the funeral, Steven Tyler promising to support the children, and countless others offering words of compassion. For one family grieving the loss of a husband and father, it was a reminder that even in division, humanity can shine.

But for one left-wing media outlet, the tragedy illuminated something very different: their own cruelty.

Just days before Charlie’s passing, the outlet had published what it thought was a cheeky “cultural feature.” The headline blared about a group of “Etsy witches” allegedly selling spells to “curse” Charlie Kirk. The article was dripping with derision, treating the idea as both comic relief and political jab, mocking Kirk as a man so despised that people were turning to online occult rituals to “hex him.” It was intended as satire. Instead, it aged like milk left out in the sun.

The Unhinged Premise

According to the piece, self-styled “digital witches” had been offering hexes for sale on Etsy—cheap spells marketed to readers eager for a laugh. The journalist framed the entire concept as a wink-and-nudge takedown of Charlie Kirk, positioning him as the butt of a supernatural joke.

“Maybe politics isn’t enough,” the piece quipped. “Maybe what Charlie really needs is a good curse.”

It was meant to be edgy, irreverent, and viral. What it became, in the wake of Charlie’s death, was grotesque.

Outrage After the Funeral

Within hours of the funeral, screenshots of the article resurfaced online. Readers who had initially scrolled past it now saw it in a different, far harsher light.

• “This aged like absolute milk,” one viral tweet read, garnering hundreds of thousands of likes.

• “Imagine mocking a man with witch curses, then watching his children bury him days later. That’s not journalism. That’s cruelty.”

• “You don’t have to agree with Charlie Kirk to recognize this is disgusting.”

What had been conceived as a throwaway “culture clash” piece was now being condemned across the political spectrum. Even those who opposed Charlie Kirk’s ideology found themselves speaking up, not for his politics, but for his humanity.

A Tale of Two Worlds

The contrast could not have been starker. Inside the chapel, Elton John’s Your Song had reduced mourners to tears. Bruce Springsteen had canceled commitments to sing My City of Ruins for the family. Neil Diamond, frail in his wheelchair, had promised to carry on Kirk’s dream of a children’s benefit concert.

Meanwhile, online, this outlet’s article stood as a cruel monument to everything wrong with media driven more by clicks than conscience. While others gave, this outlet mocked. While others lifted a grieving family, it had jeered at them.

Critics Speak Out

The backlash grew into a firestorm. Pundits from both sides of the aisle weighed in.

“Mocking a man with Etsy witch curses is the kind of thing that makes ordinary people despise the media,” one commentator noted. “You don’t have to love Charlie Kirk to see that this is deranged.”

Another wrote bluntly: “This isn’t resistance. This isn’t journalism. It’s the cruelty Olympics—and they lost.”

Calls mounted for the outlet to issue an apology, not just to the family but to readers who expected a higher standard. As of days after the funeral, no apology had been given.

The Human Cost

For Erika Kirk and her children, the witch-curse article wasn’t the centerpiece of their grief. Their focus was on burying a husband and father. But its existence underscored what many mourners whispered privately: that Charlie had been vilified so completely in the public square that some had forgotten he was human.

“He was just Charlie to us,” Erika said in her remarks at the funeral. “A husband. A dad. That’s all.”

Her words carried deeper resonance when contrasted with the article’s gleeful mockery. For readers who saw both, the dissonance was undeniable: one widow remembering love, one outlet selling snark.

Lessons Unlearned

The scandal sparked wider conversation about media ethics in the digital age. What is gained by reducing a man’s life to a punchline? What does it say about a culture that treats hexes and curses as fair game for ridicule—but fails to consider the children left behind?

Even media critics who typically align with the left acknowledged the misstep. “This wasn’t satire,” one wrote. “It was a hit job dressed as kitsch. And it collapsed the second real life intruded.”

A Reputation in Tatters

As tributes to Charlie Kirk continued—Celine Dion offering condolences as a widow herself, Don Henley vowing to keep his legacy alive, communities raising funds for his children—the outlet’s article became a cautionary tale. Not just of bad timing, but of bad faith.

Their attempt at humor had backfired spectacularly, staining their credibility. While other outlets covered the human side of the tragedy, this one found itself defending a piece that now looked ghoulish, heartless, and indefensible.

Epilogue: Who the Curse Fell On

In the end, the “curse” the article laughed about didn’t land on Charlie Kirk. It landed on the outlet itself.

Instead of gaining clout, it lost trust. Instead of looking clever, it looked cruel. And instead of setting the agenda, it became the agenda—a talking point about what happens when mockery replaces humanity.

Charlie Kirk is gone, but his family will carry forward with the help of friends, tributes, and communities who rallied in compassion. The outlet, meanwhile, must live with the legacy of a headline that now stands as one of the ugliest examples of culture-war opportunism in recent memory.

Because sometimes, when you curse others, the only thing that rots is your own credibility.