Drugs, Sex and Vomit
I don't believe in worshiping famous people or athletes or Paris Hilton and hounding them for autographs or reading about them in magazines. What I do is much more pretentious, and three times more awesome.
What I do is I admire them from afar for their fancy lifestyles and "achievements". And by achievements I mean hot chicks they've gotten past second base with. Which is why I have recently chosen to admire Anna Nicole Smith. Not because she's dead, but how she died.
You have to admire someone who married a complete geezer and then took a bunch of drugs in lieu of taking his massive banking account and then got fat, got thin, went crazy(er), took more drugs, screwed a billion dudes, delivered a strange speech at an awards show, had a baby, took some more drugs, buried her other kid, took whatever drugs were prescribed to her "lawyer" and then died without leaving so much a note explaining where all the money is buried (or at the very least revealing who the father of her baby is). NOTE: That sentence is AWESOME, look at it, seriously, they don't teach that kind of writing.
Admit it, it's a fascinating way to go. I mean, just about anyone can die from cancer or heart disease or old age, but it takes a certain amount of class and evil-genius intelect to go out in a heap of drugs, sex and vomit.
If I ever die, which I won't, I hope to leave behind a path of weirdness, wrapped lovingly around a riddle, gently nudging an enigma in the back to see if it's feeling amorous.
What I do is I admire them from afar for their fancy lifestyles and "achievements". And by achievements I mean hot chicks they've gotten past second base with. Which is why I have recently chosen to admire Anna Nicole Smith. Not because she's dead, but how she died.
You have to admire someone who married a complete geezer and then took a bunch of drugs in lieu of taking his massive banking account and then got fat, got thin, went crazy(er), took more drugs, screwed a billion dudes, delivered a strange speech at an awards show, had a baby, took some more drugs, buried her other kid, took whatever drugs were prescribed to her "lawyer" and then died without leaving so much a note explaining where all the money is buried (or at the very least revealing who the father of her baby is). NOTE: That sentence is AWESOME, look at it, seriously, they don't teach that kind of writing.
Admit it, it's a fascinating way to go. I mean, just about anyone can die from cancer or heart disease or old age, but it takes a certain amount of class and evil-genius intelect to go out in a heap of drugs, sex and vomit.
If I ever die, which I won't, I hope to leave behind a path of weirdness, wrapped lovingly around a riddle, gently nudging an enigma in the back to see if it's feeling amorous.
posted by A. Jonathan Cox at 6:32 PM
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