I divined the true character of Jim Stingl's idiotic exhalations when I read: "Most of us pay our property taxes grudgingly enough and can't imagine sending another nickel to the city after we die."
How brave of you, Mr. Stingl, to tap into the most banal, commonplace complaint of the rich elderly. How dare the government not recognize our sacred right to own a huge house, send 5 kids to a good public school, and pay no taxes!!
But it gets better: the pretext* for this piece has some relatives who aren't happy with his post-mortem financial decisions.
"I thought I was in the will, you know? He told my mother that her and I were in his will, and all of a sudden I called the attorney today and found out, man, he left it to the city. What a shocker. That's all he had, I guess, is friends at work," Stutz said.
He visits Wisconsin from time to time and would stop to see Dombrowski, who was a bit of a hermit.
"He never went out with women. His mother kept him real close to her. They were just the two of them," Stutz said.
Now that we've established Dombrowski was a selfish homo pervert, we can dispense with the notion that his money is going anywhere good:
He chuckled at the notion of city bureaucrats getting all the money. "The boys are going out and ordering big cigars. Hey, I can just see it," he said.
It must be a thrill to defecate, urinate, and vomit all over the altar of civic virtue while pretending to practice journalism.
*I avoid the word "subject" because that would imply Stingl wanted to understand Dombrowski as a human being, not a carnival curiosity.