As In Life We Are Heroes, In Death We Are Fools
I, just like most Americans was sitting at a Forth of July picnic celebrating the anniversary of our country’s independence by gorging myself with hot dogs and cheap beer.
A young friend of my cousin looked at me and asked, “Did you hear that Steve McNair was killed?”
It took me a second to focus,
“The quarterback?” I asked.
“Yeah he was shot today, him and some girl.” The youngster said.
Wow, I thought. I was finally focused and had a clear image of McNair’s round face.
I gotta check this out. I went immediately to the computer in the house and dialed in Yahoo.
Sure enough, there it was on the front page.
I read the brief initial explanation and I kept loose tabs on the case all day today.
It is starting to become clear now to the investigators and the public that this wasn’t just your run of the mill shooting. There is more to this story.
Something is rotten in Denmark.
Steve McNair was known as one of the great ones, a quarterback who inspired respect and performance out of his own teammates and those who campaigned against him.
He was one yard from a Super Bowl title. And he was a co-MVP of the NFL. He was a three time pro-bowler.
McNair was also a very respected member of his Nashville community. Devoting much of his time to charities and public works. A family man, McNair was known for his devotion to his wife and four sons. He also recently opened a restaurant in Nashville to much fanfare.
The problem now arises for this hero, that his death is shrouded in controversy and uneasy details.
McNair was found dead in an apparent murder suicide with a twenty-something year old girl. She apparently shot him several times and then turned the gun on herself.
Why did this happen? Unless it was an affair gone wrong.
History would teach us that it probably went something like this:
McNair is having an affair with a mentally unstable twenty-something; she is smitten by both his celebrity and his money. She most likely was under some delusion that he was going to leave his family for her, and when she realized that this was never to be, she snapped and killed them both.
Now, I am wrong on this and she was a Girl Scout troop leader who killed him for not paying his cookie bill, and then turned the gun on herself out of guilt, I will apologize. But I don’t think so.
It has been a really weird summer so far for celebrity deaths.
First, respected actor and Kung-Fu badass David Carradine turned out to be a sadomasochistic freak who was found dead hanging from his balls in a Bangkok hotel room.
Next was Ed McMahon.
Then there was Farrah Fawcett, whose dying wish was that all the children in the world be safe,
So God killed Michael Jackson.
And in death we found out that Michael Jackson was really a trans-gender, trans-race, drug-addicted super-weirdo. Oh wait, we already knew that.
In all honesty, say what you will about Michael Jackson. But the man was a genius. He was a pioneer, one of the most free- thinking and creative artists of our time. Of anytime for that matter. He has my respect because he wasn’t afraid to be himself. He was honestly and unapologetically Michael Jackson, and for that he deserves applause.
I know some of our more conservative readers most likely disagree with me and can’t see how I can defend a “pedophile.” It is the same Republican, right-wing pseudo-conservative rhetoric that says that the court systems in the U.S are just and that there is nothing wrong with the legal system in our country. Before you say that Jackson was a pedophile and that the courts are just in the same breath, remember he was acquitted.
Next was Billy Mays. He refused to wear a seatbelt while landing in a plane. I wonder if he could oxy-clean the head injuries he suffered and died from. I guess not.
And now there is McNair. Man, what a screwed up month.
So far I ‘ve learned not to tie myself up during masturbation.
Not to work for publisher’s clearing house.
To get married before my last breath.
To never be the king of pop.
To always follow the direction of flight attendants,
And to definitely be careful of who I am with when I die.
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