Posts Tagged ‘death’

My interview with Corey Haim

Thursday, March 11th, 2010

Former child actor Corey Haim died yesterday at the age of 38. I was granted a quick interview with the deceased "Lost Boys" star:

Me: Hi Corey, thanks for talking with me.

CH: It's my pleasure. I want all of my fans to know that I'm okay. They don't need to worry.

Me: Well, most of your fans are in their late 30s and early 40s and probably have plenty of other shit to worry about now. But I'll pass along the message.

CH: I appreciate it. I know that my demographic might skew a little older now that I'm older, but to many of them, I'll always be Sam or Lucas.

Me: I wouldn't know. I've never seen Lost Boys or Lucas and the only time I've ever heard of you was the horrible "License to Drive".

CH: Really?

Me: Yup! Now the other Corey? I loved him in Goonies.

CH: Felllldmannn. Don't even get me started.

Me: I thought you guys got along now?

CH: Are you kidding? The guy is a grade-A douchebag. Have you ever heard him speak?

Me: Yeah, he kind of oozes when he talks.

CH: Did you ever see that clip they showed on The Soup where Feldman sang at his wife? He thought that was romantic and now he'll only have sex when they play that song.

Me: Ok, that's creepy.

CH: Dude, tell me about it. I've spent my whole life trying to get away from Corey fucking Feldman, but he just won't die! He's like a cockroach. That's why I did what I did.

Me: What's that?

CH: You know.

Me: Umm, no I don't.

CH: Sure you do!

Me: Pretend I don't.

CH: That's why I died!

Me: You committed suicide to get away from Corey Feldman?

CH: Well, kind of, but it has its perks.

Me: It does?

CH: Yeah! I'm really strong now and I can fly!

Me: Ummm….

CH: And I can see at night and I will live forever!

Me: Umm, Corey? Do you think that you're a vampire now?

CH: Yeah! See? Look at my fangs!

Me: Those are just your canine teeth and I think mine are sharper looking than that.

CH: But look how pale I am!

Me: That's because you're dead.

CH: Yeah, see? Undead!

Me: No. Just. Plain. Dead.

CH: I'm a vampire – watch me lift this chair with one hand!

Me: A child with polio could lift that chair.

CH: Bah! You're just an unbeliever. I'll show you.

Me: What are you doing? Did you just poop your pants?

CH: No! I'm trying to turn into a bat!

Me: Oh. I think if you're not careful you might-

CH: I just pooped myself.

Me: And there we go.

CH: But . . . but I wanted to become more famous than Feldman!

Me: Sorry, buddy. Good luck in whatever place it is that washed up TV child-stars go!

CH: *sniff* I am a vampire. I am a vampire. I am a vampire. *sniff*

Me: Please stop biting me.


Enjoy this interview? Check out my other dead (mostly) celebrity (mostly) interviews:

My Grandmother
Roy Scheider
Zelda Rubinstein and J.D. Salinger
Brittany Murphy
Oral Roberts
John Lennon
Ken Ober
Henry Gibson
Patrick Swayze
Ted Kennedy
John Hughes
Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett
Walter Cronkite
Billy Mays
Ed McMahon
Stephen Hawking
Robert Novak
Caylee Anthony
David Carradine
Martin Luther King, Jr.

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Shamurder

Thursday, February 25th, 2010

I originally had a post half-written from the point of view of Tilikum, the killer whale who killed Dawn Brancheau, a senior trainer at Sea World, yesterday. It was a diary told from the orca's perspective, showing a building resentment towards the trainer thanks to perceived slights and insults.

But then I reconsidered and thought that maybe I was being a little insensitive. I am a fan of the maxim that funny trumps all, but all this woman did was her job. It's one thing to find the humor in something, but what's the porpoise of it all if I'm hurting someone at the same time? Especially since this was a death that was witnessed by her coworkers and an entire grouper of spectators.

I know it may seem fishy that I'm having a change of heart when I'm not usually known for being so tactful. However, this is a local story and I didn't want to appear to be baiting anyone with a sharky sarcastic post. Additionally, this woman walrus not in the public spotlight and didn't deserve a post a trout her death when it doesn't appear to be anything other than an accident.

On the flipper side, these are dangerous wild animals. They're called killer whales for a reason, and fin order to survive around them, one has to be vigilant at all times. I think it might be easy for a trainer who had been working with them for so long to start sealing them as being friendly orca domesticated, and it's events like this that act as a reminder to always be clam, cautious and never treat wild animals caviarly.

My condolences go out tuna the family. And maybe once this isn't so fresh, I'll be able to write a funny post about it without seeming like too much of a basshole.

The methodology of consolation

Tuesday, November 10th, 2009

I stood next to his body with my hand on the back of a woman I'd only met once before. I didn't even know her first name. I just knew her as his mother.

There's no way to do that right. It's impossible to properly console a mother who is crying over the loss of her son, her only child, her best friend. Crying's not the right word. This was a complete and utter loss of all emotional faculties. Up and down my hand went on her back. A constant rhythm. That's all I could think of. Up and down. Up and down.

Trying to give her privacy, I stared intently at the cabinet against the wall, filled with medical supplies. In the glass, I caught the reflection of his face, waxy and still. I heard her talk to him, telling him who she notified and how his son will be fine and how she'll be strong because she knows he would want her to be. And I heard her deny it over and over again, repeating the word no with a low staccato beat. Her face buried in the blue sheet that covered him, she moaned, a low guttural sound that echoed in my head. Up and down. Up and down.

I noticed that one of the cabinet doors was slightly ajar and contemplated walking over to close it. The more I stared, the more it bothered me. Why didn't somebody close that fucking door? The rest of them are closed and how hard is it to close. one. door? And the sheets? Why were the sheets wrinkled? Hadn't anyone thought that the sheets should be nice and neat? Without thinking, I reached out to straighten the sheet in front of me. My hand touched his covered body. It was very solid and felt cool to the touch. And it felt wrong. So wrong.

Suddenly, I was ready to leave. If it wasn't for my hand on the back of this woman I didn't know, moving up and down, while she said goodbye to her son, a friend, I would have been gone. Instead, I breathed and looked him in the face and listened to her words. I felt her love and her grief and her pain and her misery as if it were my very own.

And I stood silently and like a statue, if not for the arm moving up and down, up and down, until she was done saying goodbye to her only son.

My interview with Billy Mays, Pitchman Extraordinaire

Monday, June 29th, 2009

Celebrities are dropping like flies. I'm so busy with interview requests I barely have time to sleep. Billy Mays, let's hear what you have to say today:

Me: Hi Billy.

BM: Hello ADAM! Thank you for interviewing me today. I'm here to talk about a fantastic new product called DEATH!

Me: Um…

BM: It's AMAZING! Watch how EASY it is for me to turn from a 50-year old man with a loud voice to a LEGEND!

Me: Well, yes, that's probably true.

BM: In only THREE SIMPLE STEPS, I will be transformed from a mildly successful pitchman to
A PHILANTHROPIST! (shows picture of himself helping an orphan)
A FAMILY MAN! (shows picture of himself with his wife and son)
A MARKETING GENIUS! (shows picture of himself holding OxiClean)

Me: Well, that does sound pretty neat.

BM: It IS neat! Adam, let me ask you a question. Have you ever worried about being FORGOTTEN? (shows picture of sad man shrugging his shoulders as people ignore him)

Me: (nods head) Sure.

BM: Have you ever tried to get FAMOUS, only to find out that it's MESSIER than you thought? (shows picture of a celebrity trying to get rid of a dead hooker with blood everywhere)

Me: (nods head more vigorously) Yes!

BM: What if you could buy a product that would QUICKLY build upon your marginal POPULARITY by SKYROCKETING YOU TO SUPER STARDOM?

Me: (eagerly nods head even more) Ooooh, really?

BM: Yes, REALLY! All you have to do are follow these SIMPLE STEPS. They're SO SIMPLE that a CHILD could do them! 1. TRY – gain some marginal popularity 2. FLY – get hit on the head by a heavy object during a commercial flight and 3. DIE – IT'S SO EASY THAT ANYONE CAN DO IT FROM THE PRIVACY OF THEIR OWN HOME!

Me: (looks quizzically to the audience) But how much could something this amazing cost?

BM: I DON'T KNOW – YOU TELL ME?!? Would $400 sound like a fair amount?

Me: Hm. Yes?

BM: NO!

Me: Okay, no!

BM: This AMAZING product could be yours for only three monthly payments of $19.95! And if you CALL RIGHT NOW, we'll give you the third payment free! THAT'S RIGHT, for only two monthly payments of $19.95, YOU TOO CAN EXPERIENCE THE AMAZING SUCCESS OF DEATH! But that's not all!

Me: (looks amazed) It's not?

BM: NO!!! If you CALL NOW, I'll also throw in a free copy of my book, "Billy Mays' Guide to Beard Maintenance" AND a free CLIP-ON READING LIGHT that allows you to read in any location – while under the covers, on the couch, at the movies . . .

Me: So, let me see if I have this right, Billy. For only TWO PAYMENTS of $19.95, I'm not only going to experience AMAZING SUCCESS with your WONDERFUL NEW PRODUCT, DEATH, but you'll also throw in a FREE copy of your book AND a FREE clip-on reading light? And all I have to do is 1. TRY, 2. FLY, AND 3. DIE?

BM: Yes! That's it!

Me: Is it really that easy? Are there any catches, Billy?

BM: No, Adam, there are NO CATCHES and it is really THAT EASY! So simple a CHILD CAN DO IT!

Me: But couldn't I just try some of those other products I've seen out there, like SUICIDE, CANCER and FAME BY ACTUALLY BEING TALENTED?

BM: You could, if you wanted to be like Marlene Munro, Juan Linnon, or Ed McMahon.

Me: (shrugs shoulders, looks confused) Who?

BM: EXACTLY! If you want to try one of the competitors, you'll quickly learn that their product is INFERIOR to ours in every way. The ONLY WAY that you can experience TRUE POSTHUMOUS SUCCESS AND IMMORTALITY is through this product right here.

Me: Well, you've sold me! How about the rest of you? (turns to audience) Are you ready to start succeeding today?

Audience: (applauds) YES! WOOHOO!!!

Enjoy this interview? Check out my dead celebrity interviews:

Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett
Ed McMahon
Stephen Hawking
Caylee Anthony
David Carradine
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Ode to my grandfather

Wednesday, April 29th, 2009

Those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook likely saw the news that I posted about my grandfather dying early Tuesday morning. He had been suffering for a long time now, and his physician had been predicting that he "wouldn't last the week" for almost two years – almost since the day my grandmother died. Those of you who sent me condolence emails or messages through Twitter or Facebook, thank you very much.

I moved away from Boston when I was three, and can count on one hand the number of times I saw my dad's parents after that. They came down and visited twice and we went up to visit them three times. I wasn't particularly close to either of them, although my grandfather and I communicated during college quite a bit. Even though he only had a sixth-grade education, he would write me letters and send money every few months. I would always reply with my own letters, and we communicated like that during my entire college career. It was a very sweet gesture, albeit an occasionally indecipherable one, and I took every chance I had to tell him how much it meant to me that he would send those letters.

Until the last several years, my grandfather was in amazing health. Before a hospital visit in 2001, the last time he was in the hospital was in the Korean War when a jeep he was driving exploded. He walked away without a scratch but they insisted on taking him the hospital anyways. He was probably the toughest person I've ever met, and it was always difficult to see him in a weakened condition. The last time I saw him, he was staying in a hospital room with my grandmother and was raring to get home. He also handed me the last letter he'd ever write me and asked me not to open it until after he had died. I searched through my file cabinet on Tuesday and finally found it, a normal-looking 8X10 envelope with "Adam Heath Avitable" scrawled, barely legible, on the front. I smiled at the fact that he uses my full name just like I do, and began to read:

Dear Adam,

If you are reading this, then I have finally passed on, hopefully to a better place. Or so it would seem. However, it is likelier that I will crawl from the ground a hungry brain-eating monster, shambling from victim to victim in my never-ending quest for a meal. You were my first grandson, so I am entrusting you with this letter in order to avoid a zombie plague like the famous Undead Attack of '66.

Here are directions to my pre-purchased grave site. I need you to fly to Boston and come to the grave, where I have hidden a shovel. Take the shovel and dig up my coffin. When you open the coffin, be very careful to keep your hands and fingers away from my mouth, as zombies can be quicker than they look. I need you to separate my head from my neck, put my head in a box or bag, and then bury it in a separate location.

Two years ago, when your grandmother died, I had to go through this same process and she almost got me. In fact, she managed to turn two groundskeepers into the undead before I could stop her rampage. Zombies are serious business, and you cannot take this responsibility lightly!

I cannot ask your father to do this, as I know it would be too difficult, so the burden rests on your shoulders alone. Tell no one of this letter, as we do not want to cause a panic in the streets about future zombie attacks.

May God have mercy on our souls.

Love,
Jerry Avitable*

So, I'm off to Boston. Wish me luck?


***
In other Avita-news, tonight we're having a Britt-free installment of "Clearly, You're Retarded!" Stepping into Britt's highly capable fashionable shoes is the intelligent, although not quite as smart as me, Faiqa!

The show starts tonight, Wednesday, at 9 PM EST, and our topic is about destroying children's dreams. More specifically, should parents encourage and support a belief in fictional characters like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy? Is lying to your children okay in this situation?

If you're going to listen, I strongly suggest that you download the TalkShoe Pro software – it's free and much more stable than the web interface. Listen live online here: Clearly, You're Retarded

clearlyretarded_faiqa

*This letter may or may not be fabricated and I am not actually going to Boston to do any such thing.

RIP Bea Arthur

Sunday, April 26th, 2009

As you probably know, Bea Arthur died yesterday at the age of 86.

Most people remember her the best for her Emmy award-winning role in "Golden Girls," where her acerbic sense of humor shined, or her starring role in "Maude".

But here are some things you might not have known about Bea Arthur:

  • She was the inspiration for Dirty Harry.
  • The word "Cuntsicle" was coined by her when she met Joan Collins.
  • She once climbed the Empire State Building just to prove that she could.
  • She's actually Robin Williams in a wig, speaking with a rough accent.
  • Kathleen Turner and Bea Arthur started a phone sex line in 1983, but it didn't last more than a month.
  • She's the only woman to have slept with 23 consecutive presidents.
  • With one punch, she could knock down a redwood tree.
  • Jimmy Hoffa was actually hidden inside her vagina.
  • When Tom Jones saw her, he'd throw manties at her.
  • She and Betty White once killed a man and buried him in the desert.
  • Her real name was B. Arthur. The B stood for Brian.

RIP, Bea. You will be missed!

Faticide

Thursday, March 13th, 2008

I was flipping through the channels the other night when I saw a news report. It started out by saying that obesity now causes more deaths than smoking, and then it was going to explain 15 ways that obesity results in death. I was going to watch the rest of it, but Zoey 101 was on Nickelodeon, and I wasn't sitting there naked with a jar of Vaseline so I could watch some stupid news show.

It got me thinking, though. In what ways obesity can cause death? Since I never got to see their actual facts, I can only surmise what these 15 ways are. Here are my guesses:

1. Grease related: After cooking six hamburgers on the skillet to eat for an afternoon snack, you slip on the grease that's splashed on the ground, fall flat on your back, and the skillet full of grease lands on your face, drowning you with its wonderful tasty contents.

2. Grease related, driving: Hunger pangs mean you need to stop at McDonald's and get some french fries while driving home. You have to settle for a large fry because of fucking Morgan Spurlock and his stupid documentary, but the grease on those fries is sufficient to make your fingers very slippery. You come up on a sharp turn, your hands slip along the wheel, and you drive right through the guardrail, plunging to your fiery, greasy death.

3. Exercise related, outside: You decide to go for a walk to burn off the calories from the four Twinkies that you used as hot dog buns for four hot dogs slathered in mayonnaise. You manage to walk fourteen steps and then decide to rest in the bushes for a bit. The high-pitched wheezing that you emit as you catch your breath attracts a pack of Siberian wolf huskies, who think that you are a beached sea lion and eat your face.

4. Exercise related, inside: You get on the treadmill and start walking. Since you weren't able to reach your feet, however, your shoelaces are untied, and they get sucked into the track of the treadmill, causing you to fall to the ground. At an agonizingly slow speed, the treadmill sucks you into its gears, inch by inch.

5. Sex related, men: In an effort to see your penis, you try to simultaneously suck in your gut, thrust out your hips and look down as quickly as possible. The quick motions cause a massive ripple effect that resonates throughout your body and collides at your neck, snapping it instantly.

6. Sex related, women: Riding on top of your partner, your frantic up and down motion causes the bed to split evenly in two. The headboard and footboard snap together like a bear trap, popping your head off like a grape.

7. Clothing related, putting on: As you squeeze into your shirt that fit fine five years ago, you hold your breath. This lasts for about eight seconds, at which point you quickly exhale, causing all of your buttons to pop off at an almost supersonic speed. They ricochet off of the mirror in front of you and the resulting shrapnel pierces your brain via your eyeballs.

8. Clothing related, taking off: As you sit in the chair and try to reach your feet to take off your socks, you have to pull your foot towards you. Your hands slip off your foot and you punch yourself directly in the nose, driving a small bone into your brain and killing yourself within seconds.

9. Travel related, driving: As you are coming up on a railroad crossing, a train starts coming. Your foot presses down on the brake, but since your foot is three feet wide, you press both the gas and brake simultaneously. This causes you to drift slowly forward until you are up on the tracks directly in the train's path. You manage to get out of the car and try to run away, but running's hard, so you lay down to take a breather. On the tracks. The train hits you and derails, killing hundreds.

10. Travel related, flying: Even though you used the handicapped stall at the airport before you left, you still have to pee halfway through the flight. You walk into the bathroom and pee standing up because you can't turn around. Even after peeing, you're still stuck, so you gently try to pivot to exit the bathroom. This doesn't work, so you begin to move side to side violently trying to force yourself to turn around. These massive fluctuations in movement cause the plane to lose control and spiral to the ground where it explodes in a huge fireball.

11. Television related, self-inflicted: You settle in your favorite chair and start watching TV. The remote isn't working very well, and the TV is currently on a marathon of "According to Jim". You don't want to get up to change channels, because that's too much effort, so you commit suicide by swallowing your own tongue.

12. Television related, other-inflicted: You settle in your favorite chair and start watching TV. After watching several hours of a marathon on The Food Network, you are crazed with hunger and try to eat your television. Either the electrical jolt or the shards of electronics bouncing through your intestines kill you.

13. Bathroom related, bathing: Since you're unable to wash your own back, stomach, and legs, you simply rinse them off in the shower. Little do you realize that, as a result, a small colony of fungus appears on your back. The fungus evolves into a community, and finally colonizes other parts of your body. Before long, imperialism sets in, and the colonies fight back and forth across the expanse of your body. All of the colonies develop advanced weaponry, and the war that breaks out culminates in the use of nuclear weaponry, which fries you in an instant.

14. Bathroom related, toilet use: Each time you sit on the toilet, it cracks a little. Finally, the stress of holding your weight is too much, and the entire toilet collapses into the sewer below. You are also swept underground where you are eaten by a giant crocodile.

15. Crime related: Unbeknownst to you, while you are out shopping one day, you bump into a mother who is holding her child. Her child is accidentally sucked into the folds of your flab. Amber alerts are issued and a nationwide manhunt for the child is underway when the police review the surveillance cameras from the store and watch the child disappear into your bodily black hole. With this evidence, the police confront you. You put your hands up to give up, but the police misinterpret this as a sign of aggression. Fearing that you are going to try to eat them, they open fire, firing 185 bullets, hitting you 42 times.

I'm pretty sure these are the same things the news was going to explain about the dangers of obesity, right?

Bird's Eye and more

Wednesday, September 12th, 2007

Originally, my post was going to be a simple lazy one. Dan at "All That Comes With It" posted a little meme where you show an aerial view of your home using Google Maps.

So I thought that was cool and did it myself. The solid red line surrounds my lot. The dotted red line surrounds the lot that I want to buy once the old guy who owns it croaks:

Adam's House

The quality sucks, so I used MSN Live and did a street's eye view of my house here:

Adam's House

So, there's that. If you want to follow suit, let me know. All you have to do is go to Google Maps, put in your address, click "Satellite", and then do a screenshot. You can also try it with MSN Live which has a cool street view of many locations.

But, after I decided to write this, two other things happened.

1. One of the funniest bloggers that nobody read, Greg Beck, has died. Please go over there and read through some of his archives and see if what you read doesn't make you laugh. What a genuinely captivating personality – he will be sorely missed.

2. Regardless of how some people feel about how the media and the public have treated Britney Spears, nobody feels as strongly about it as this guy. Thanks to Sarcastica for the link!

I admit it.

Wednesday, May 16th, 2007

I'm guilty. I did it. I killed the Rev. Jerry Falwell. (Does "Rev." stand for "Revolting"?) For those of you who are oblivious, Jerry Falwell was found dead in his office. It's assumed that he had a coronary episode. However, the truth is that I snuck into his office with my ninja skills and dispatched him using a poison that has potassium chloride in it, which simulated the conditions of a myocardial infarction. Once his Holy Fuckness was dead, I saw his soul for an instant, hovering above his body, before it was sucked down in a red flash, where hopefully he'll be anally raped for all eternity by a series of gay Muslim men wearing Teletubby masks. As is my typical custom, I celebrated Falwell's death by doing a little happy dance – it's what I usually do when despicable people shuffle off the mortal coil. And since I was the one who killed him, I was especially happy! Don't believe me? Just look below for proof of my ninjosity (Click for a larger version):

Ninja Avitable


In other news, when I got my mail today, I received an awesome postcard from the one and only Mr. Fabulous. He finally took me up on my advice to try necrophilia:

Postcards from the Edge

Thanks to Crystal for the idea for today's post.