For the time being, police at the French Polynesian island of Nuku Hiva do not believe German yachtsman Stefan Ramin was dismembered, cooked and eaten by cannibals last month. The dying printed press, however, would like to remind you that it’s still in the realm of newspaper-selling reality.
Remember: A story is treated as a tragedy unless — holy crap! Cannibals!
Of all the things you can do with a corpse, the “Weekend at Bernie’s” runs a close second to … well, ask your parents. And when Robert Young and Mark Rubinson found their buddy Jeffery Jarrett dead in his home, they (allegedly) knew that Jeff had just delivered them a godsend.
According to police, the two picked Jarrett up off of whatever he died on (please say it was the toilet, please please please) and loaded him into an SUV. They then used Jarrett’s money to pay for drinks and food at two locations, dropped him back off at home — because he’d obviously had enough — and then went back out to a strip club.
At this point, once they had ditched the body, you could argue that they were just taking advantage of their friend’s death to profit. But, explain this: when they got to the strip club, they withdrew $400 from the ATM with his debit card.
You may think you’re tight with your friends, but are you close enough to create a death pact with them, including the PIN to your bank account?
SeriouslyGuys would like to wish a very maudlin birthday to the corpse consisting of Michael Jackson, Dow Chemical and Hasbro, makers of Mr. Potato Head. The unholy amalgamation of burn scars and poor self-image resulting from years of exploitation and abuse as a child would have been 53 years old today.
Mr. Jackson is survived by his legendary records, famous dance moves and Weird Al Yankovic.
No Kurt Cobain Bridge in Aberdeen, Washington? Well, rape me, my friends.
Amy Winehouse, best known for looking like she’s been dating Bobby Brown, died this weekend. An autopsy is set for today, though we can already guess the results will reveal the singer should have gone to rehab.
Sherwood Schwartz, creator of The Brady Bunch, Gilligan’s Island and their g@ddamn f$@king theme songs, died Tuesday. He has presumably already settled in his penthouse in Hell for whatever agreement he made with our dark lord and master.
See if you can guess where this is going. A helmet-less motorcyclist who was part of a protest against helmet laws:
a) Successfully navigated the roads designated for the route, striking a blow for liberty and proving to all that helmets only protect your virginity.
b) Hit a bump the wrong way, recovered and wondered what could have happened had he fallen without a helmet and made a mental note for future decisions.
c) Donated his brains to the Western New York pavement in an accident that doctors say would not have been fatal had he been wearing a helmet.
If you said c, you’re correct and can probably guess how Ohio’s new guns in bars law will turn out.
We reported yesterday that the U.S. Supreme Court has approved the use of dead men’s words in court cases.
So what? So this: Volkswagen just relaunched the minibus. The Mystery Machine is back. Coupled with Monday’s decision, the world has made it very clear that the crimes of the dead will no longer be tolerated, even if the ghost was really Old Man Jenkins all along.
Despite two dissenting votes, the U.S. Supreme Court has definitively ruled that a jury can hear dead people.
Actually, they decided that a witness’s dying words are now admissible in court, which means attorneys finally have a case against those drapes that killed Oscar Wilde.
Good news for your high school self that really got The Doors: Florida Gov. Charlie Crist might pardon Jim Morrison for a 1969 indecent exposure charge.
The pardon would wipe the misdemeanor offense off of Morrison’s criminal record, transforming him from a dangerous rock legend into some hippie who sang poetry with an organ player.
Awesome, right?
