Cuz' he daid.
Oh, what, too soon?
Hey: anyone reflexively reaching for the keyboard to tell me what an ass I am for being a bit flippant about Michael Turner's recent death from a particularly horrible bout of cancer can just shut the hell up if they were one of the many expressing their outrage and indignation over his various works. The hate and bile I heard expressed while he was alive, as far as I'm concerned, negates any right those same people have to give me a hard time for maybe not being properly respectful now that he's passed away.
'Course, I dunno, maybe there's a bunch of folks out there actually inwardly gleeful that he's dead, meaning there's one less antichrist of anti-feminist girlie art for them to warrior-blog against.
Yes, yes, standard disclaimers, not every fangirl feminist was out for Turner's blood. But even now at WFA I can go follow a link or two and read someone talking about how they'd like to do violence to some particular creator because that creator isn't being caring and respectful enough to some other category of human beings in their work, and do these people ever read what they write sometimes?
It's the double standard of hate. You hate something. I hate you for hating something. Your hate is unjustified. Mine is holy.
But at the risk of sounding Ditko-esque, hate is hate.