19 posts tagged “death”
Dammit, man! If hearing about David Carradine passing wasn't enough to make this day a bummer, I just read over at SOULBOUNCE we lost a blues legend as well. Miss Koko Taylor.
Ohio executes man who argued he was too fat to die
"Look at you just a munching with yo' big happy self," he says. "You like yourself some chocolate, huh?"
"And nuts," I say-- innocently.
"How about these?" he ask, leaning back on his bunk.
"Those nuts?" I shrug, looking at the can of party nuts he just pulled from back behind his bunk. "Not a fan of unsalted."
"Figured as much." he says. His look of disappointment suddenly disappears and he's smiling from wide and bright.
"What!"
"You might be in luck! ! I think I got a some salted underneath there." He leans back on his bunk again. "Just can't reach 'em. Tell you what! How about you get down on the floor here and make use of them long arms of yours."
"Okay!"
"See if you can reach 'em, while I put up this sheet here to cover the bars. Don't want no one getting the wrong idea, seeing you all prone like that. You're cakes are mine biggun."
"Huh? What about cakes I don't see-- Ow! Oh. I had a feeling you were talking about those nuts too."
Things go from bad to worse when he steals my pen to fashion himself a makeshift hash pipe. He isn't the least bit apologetic:
"What in the hell else am I supposed to use?" he ask, but I can barely hear him over the blood throbbing through my head. "That chicken scratch you call writing? Wouldn't know a linear time-line if it smacked you in the face. Can't punctuate or proofread worth a damn. And you sure love yourself some parentheses and profanities. Consonance and assonance all out of yo' a$$. If I weren't afraid of ink poisoning, I would've burn it! It ain't nothing but a bunch of navel-gazing, pop-culture obsessed, meta bull-crap!"
Felipe mad. Felipe smash. Felipe catches a capital offense. Felipe is S.O.L. because he just read that the supreme court ain't trying to hear "Too Fat To Die Humanely" argument.
But I'd probably be long dead before the state had the chance to stick a needle in me. Dead from embarrassment, if my mug looks anything like this unrepentant S.O.B.'s. I wonder if they'd hook me up with last photo shoot, if I opt out of the final meal (chocolate pancakes, two eggs scrambled with cheddar, and a side of bacon). So instead of waiting for phone from the governor, I'll be waiting for a call from Bruce Weber (Bring the boys-- leave the dogs at home), Annie Leibo-- nevermind, Ivysgrandkid or Lachapelle.
Yesterday Bernie Mac. Today? Isaac Hayes dies at the age of 65.
Here's a wonderful performance from "Wattstax."
Good thing Morgan Freeman had his accident last week or we may have been looking at a thress situations like PASS8LUVR suggested. I'm gonna use my limited pull with the higher power and bind that up. Death can't take anymore talented black (or white) entertainers this weekend. God, I know I was cussing and carrying on about Bill Cosby and his contract demands (No paid advertising? A spreadsheet with folks e-mails and ages?!). So I need you to coat and cover him. Keep a special watch on B.B. and Poitier too. Amen.
RIP Isaac.
One of my favorite bits, the late great George Carlin on religion:
When the highlight of your week is being on hit on in the bar by a guy who fondly recalls D.C. 's gay scene during the Regan Era , your weeks looking kind of shitty. And that's what happened to me yesterday. "Who knew Republicans could be so naughty?" he asked. I was too busy sipping on a Jack and Coke to respond but I thought to myself, Anyone who cares to get their news anywhere else but the Fox News Channel. "Twenty-five years ago, this place was a swinging horny spot." Honey, twenty-five years ago I was seven.'Swinging horny spot?" Who are you? Austin Powers? Keep it moving. There you have it, a bright spot in a somewhat dark week.
Shit started to go downhill on Monday. M's oldest cousin (48) had a massive stroke. They had to do surgery early Tuesday morning to repair a rupture and yesterday it was angioplasty. I took off on Monday and Tuesday to sit with the family, but had to get back to work on Wednesday to wrap up a project that should have been wrapped up two months ago. I picked up M from work on Wednesday so that he could drive to the hospital again. He was trying to sort out when I would be off from work, rather than just asking me when am I getting off work? Then he got huffy and said I was giving him a look. Now he's being really pissy for no damned reason other than the fact that he thinks I had some issue with him using the car-- when I fucking didn't. This morning when we were headed to work, he snotted, "You sure you don't want to drive." I know he's kind of mad and frustrated right now and its kind of hard to take things out on stroke. So I'm trying to keep my cool. And last night, I figured it would be best if we went to our separate corners. So after work (and three hours of overtime), I went out for a drink, got hit on and got another bit a bad news.
I walked into the bar and saw an old bar buddy's partner. I figured that my old friend, H, was somewhere near because he rarely lets his man venture out on his own. So I was looking forward to him sauntering, giving me big old hug and teasing me about M letting me lose for the night. His partner was sitting with another friend. I guess he saw the eagerness in my eyes and before I had the chance to ask about H's whereabouts, he told me H had died in October. He went to hospital because he was having problems breathing. He found it was lung cancer. A few days later they found out he also had pancreatic cancer and ten days later he passed away. Damn, he managed to live over 10 healthy years with HIV and the Big C snatched him away. The last time I talked to H was around Labor Day. He had just gone to Hawaii for his birthday and he told me, "You gotta go, man. It's paradise. " Here's hoping he manages to find paradise on the other side too. Love you, H.
