This Day in Death

02.25.12 – Some Zimbabwean Prostitute – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 1:58 am February 25, 2012

Three abandoned Photoshops and twenty minutes of image searching later and this was the only picture I could come up with that wasn’t either racist or incredibly depressing. So enjoy this view of Zimbabwe’s majestic Victoria Falls, where dreams are made!


Obviously, the best way to give this story the solemn dignity it demands is with a clumsy run-on sentence. What have you got for me, Zimbabwean news site that’s obviously not written by native English-speakers?

The woman [editor’s note: he means whore] had been hired overnight on Sunday evening, but decided to wash her clients clothes the following morning and as she was hanging the clothes on the laundry line, she was electrocuted, dying on the spot, said Lameck Chirwa, who stays in the neighbourhood where the incident occurred.

Mmmmm, that’s some spicy poor syntax! But hang on… can you clarify something for me…

The sex worker, Mati Nhamo, had reportedly spent the night at her clients place

She spent the night? Dude! Hasn’t this guy ever heard that you don’t pay a hooker for sex, you pay her to leave afterward? And this guy has the nerve to call himself a degenerate. *cracks air whip repeatedly*

Beyond that, Nhamo’s family is refusing to bury her until the client, Last Mbele (cool name, bro), first pays them a dowry. This guy signed up for a simple, carefree night of swimming in the kind of South African STDs that make Gonorrhea look like a stubbed toe and instead got boondoggled into a marriage. Zimbabwe: Teaching you that prostitution is wrong, but for totally different reasons than you thought.

Source: NewsDay

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6.7.13: Night Stalker Richard Ramirez – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 6:50 pm June 11, 2013


RICHARD_RAMIREZThere sure is a lot of clothing with this guy’s stupid face on it. What happened to good old fashioned t-shirts about sailors’ butts and whether or not they happen to drive the wearer nuts?

Richard Ramirez, the satanic serial killer whom the media dubbed the Night Stalker, died on Friday of an exceptionally unsatantic case of liver failure. I don’t know what was in the water in America from the 60s through the 80s, but for whatever reason we figured it was a good time to go ahead and create real-life supervillains with fucked up gimmicks like the Night Stalker and the Manson Family. It was so much like a Batman comic that we even had John Wayne Gacy dressing up like the goddamn Joker. But unfortunately we never got a Bruce Wayne in the real world. Hell, we never even got a Moon Knight. The closest thing to a superhero we ended up with was Phoenix Jones punching loiterers in the neck and then recuperating at a 24-hour Starbucks. Oh, and Bill Gates giving away billions of dollars and spending the rest of his life in a mud hut in the African savanna attempting to cure every disease ever, but where’s the pizazz in that? He doesn’t even wear a costume! What a dork!

“This person hurt many people, and our thoughts should be with the next of kin and survivors of these senseless attacks,” said L.A. Deputy Dist. Atty. Alan Yochelson, who prosecuted Ramirez. Yochelson said that although the state did not execute Ramirez, who was still pursuing appeals, “some measure of justice has been achieved” because he had to live out his life behind bars.

I try to keep things marginally respectful here, which is why I always wear spats while writing these posts, but this is the rare occasion where I can say whatever I want about the recently deceased.  No one outside of suburban teenage goth girls with A Nightmare Before Christmas tattoos is gonna come to this turd’s defense, so I’m free to openly mock that stupid Jim Morrison haircut that makes him look like the kind of guy who hangs out at flea markets airbrushing pythons and bikini babes onto ’77 Camaros. But I just can’t. After so many years of writing this site (one, I guess), I’ve just gotten used to a gentler approach. I’ve failed you and gotten soft, like when that Blue’s Clues guy first got out of prison and went into television. He left the Colombian prostitute smuggling community in a real lurch.

Source: The LA Times

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10.18.12: Porn Star Sylvia Kristel – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 7:05 pm October 19, 2012

You’re never gonna get thoroughly clean if you just spend the whole bath slowly massaging your chest like that. America’s pre-teens rely on lurid sexuality to teach them proper hygiene practices and this is just leading them down a dangerous path.

Porn star (or “adult film actress” if you’re applying for a grant) Sylvia Kristel is dead today, and I’m just gonna come right out and tell you that it was throat cancer. Yes yes, get it out of your systems. I thought you guys were a bit more sophisticated than that. I mean, I’m not, but I thought you were.

Kristel was best known for playing the title role in the landmark 1974 softcore porn Emmanuelle. Wait, hang on. They’re making softcore porno now? What, is that just mostly hand-holding or something? Do they have to keep the gangbangs in the single digits? And what of ATM? Who’s softcore porn even for, people who want square tires and put water in their cereal? I tell you, there are some reeeal sickos in the world.

She did act in mainstream films, […] but was nearly always cast in sexually suggestive parts, and her performances drew considerably less attention than her face and figure.

In her 2006 autobiography, “Undressing Emmanuelle,” she wrote that she was “disappointed and a little hurt” that her more serious work went unappreciated. “I was dressed but people preferred me naked,” she wrote.

Well, now I feel bad about the pelvic-thrusty nature of this post, so let’s just call it a day here. It’s just as well, since I generally try to avoid jokes about porn or prostitution. I mean, there’s this stuff. And these. And I’d hate to forget this one. But as a general rule I try to steer clear of that stuff. Or at least skip a day here and there. Wow. When you lay it out like that it really starts to look like I might have a problem after all. I guess I owe Pastor Robinson a pretty big apology.

Source: The New York Times

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7.16.12: Country Music Icon Kitty Wells – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 9:59 am July 18, 2012

Well, that’s a funny looking vacuum cleaner, baby.


Long before music went to hell and Gwen Stefani got away with murdering Adam Yauch, there were brassy dames like Kitty Wells. In the 1950s Wells became the first female country star following the success of her hit, “It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels.”

Wells laid a template for female singers in country music that started a shift in traditional male-female roles in rural America with “Honky Tonk Angels,” a strikingly assertive response to Hank Thompson’s masive 1952 hit “The Wild Side of Life,”…

“And it was totally written by a dude,” added the Mayor of Irony.

Alright, that’s not fair. Writing and performing your own hits wasn’t common for anyone at the time, so the most a performer could hope to do was to use their voice (literally and metaphorically) to help make a song relatable, which Wells more than managed to do. That’s the real reason she became known as the “Queen of Country,” and despite the fact that my classmates gave me that same nickname after my 8th grade talent show performance of “Stand By Your Man,” I don’t even think they knew who Kitty Wells was. So, really, that just made THEM look stupid, not me.

The stern resolution Wells gave voice to would be echoed in subsequent recordings by Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette, Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris and still ripples today in assertive songs by Miranda Lambert and Carrie Underwood.

It’s a legacy that you can still feel in the air every time Taylor Swift awkwardly swings her strangely angular shoulders into the studio to record another 12 songs about getting to kiss a boy. I think country music might actually be evolving backwards. By 2015 I expect most country songs to be about how women should learn to move less while sleeping so as not to disturb their husbands while they’re trying to focus on banging underage Korean prostitutes.

Source: LA Times

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6.5.12: Science Fiction Author Ray Bradbury – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 9:24 am June 7, 2012

The author, seen here with Bush and one of the emotionless automatons Bradbury tried to warn us about.


From the “It Should’ve Been You, Dan Brown!” file, author Ray Bradbury is dead today. Probably Bradbury’s best-known work was Fehrenheit 451, also known as the book you have listed as one of your favorites on your OK Cupid profile because you haven’t read a damn thing since 10th grade. Seriously, The Perks of Being a Wallflower? You fucking asshole.

Sam Weller, Bradbury’s biographer and friend, said in a posting on his website Wednesday, “I’ll never see you again. I’ll never see you again. I’ll never see you again.

“The problem with death, you once said to me, is that ‘it is so damned permanent,’ ” Weller’s statement said.

Hey, wow. A comment about death! That actually relates pretty well to what I’m doing here for once. Don’t get used to that kind of synchronicity, though. Tomorrow I’ll be going right back to clumsily steering this shit into Home Improvement references.

Anyway, if you’ll allow me to dust off the tweed sportscoat I got with my degree, I’ll break this down for you: Bradbury’s contribution to the science fiction/fantasy genre is significant because he understood that the “science” part doesn’t give an author carte blanche to toss out character development or narrative structure. The story shouldn’t be treated like something to get out of the way before the 20-page sex scene between the space prostitute and the quick-witted hero who’s not at all an avatar for the author and/or his sexually-frustrated readers. Bradbury managed to balance fantasy with a humanistic eye that made his stories easy to relate to no matter how outlandish they became. Hell, even the covers of his books were tasteful and artistic, instead of the autistically-collated projections of hormone-driven teenage fantasies most of Bradbury’s contemporaries seem to favor. Look:

For comparison’s sake, here’s an average modern-day science fiction book cover:



Okay, I originally made that cover as a joke, but if I’m being honest with you guys it’s really starting to look like a pretty awesome book. You know, I dated a green chick once. She was a model, but she lived in Canada, so you never met her, and her parents didn’t want me to take pictures of her so that’s why I don’t have any pictures of her to post but if I did I would post those pictures and you could see how hot she was.


Source: CNN

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4.25.12: Colorado Man Who Wrote His Own Obituary – LET’S GET THIS OVER WITH!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 9:30 am April 25, 2012

No, Kid’s not dead, but the guy is this story is named “Flathead.” This was the first thing I thought of and I desperately needed something to keep my attention through this post. It’s working nicely.

Sometimes the internet gets ahold of something and, once in a great while, it’s stupid. The internet’s sterling judgement has given us an endless parade of musically-inclined cats, songs about deciding which seat to choose in your friend’s car, and lots and lots of casual racism. But today we got a story about some yokel in Colorado who wrote a funny obituary for himself instead. It’s the kind of thing Tina at work is going to show you two weeks after you’ve already seen it and you’re gonna have to pretend that it’s cute because 1.) you don’t want people to know that you burn through memes the way well-adjusted people go through toilet paper, and 2.) each day is little more than an increasingly desperate effort to avoid hitting the release valve on the barely-contained tank of rage directed at everyone who tries to show you “internet things” in your real life. This post just got… therapeutic.

“He enjoyed booze, guns, cars and younger women until the day he died,” reads the Denver Post obituary for Michael “Flathead” Blanchard.

And his cause of death? The obit attributes his maker-meeting moment to being “stubborn, refusing to follow doctors’ orders and raising hell for more than six decades.”

Fair enough.

The obituary then lists his late cat “Chopper” as his son, says someone named “Baba Yaba” can “kiss his butt” and notes that his childhood friends are predominantly “criminals, prostitutes and/or Democrats.”

First off, act like a man and say “ass” or just don’t say anything at all. I don’t read obituaries to see what it would look like if you ran “Scarface” through the ABC Family censor. I read them because my parents gave me no moral guidance whatsoever. Also, don’t you dare lump prostitutes in with criminals and Democrats, and I’m not just saying that because I can’t seem to stop mentioning them in posts. They provide a valuable service to lonely weirdos and bored millionaires with trophy wives alike. It’s pretty much the only thing that unites us as a nation.

While all the hell-raising surely didn’t help, his family told the Post “Flathead” actually died of natural causes. And, no, the obituary is not some cruel final jab by the family. They say the words are mostly Flathead’s.

His brother Steve Blanchard said “Flathead” wrote a draft of the obituary before he died. The family just added the final touches.

“He lived every minute to its fullest and then some,” Blanchard told the Post.

Not only is the obituary blunt, it’s late. The man nicknamed for his love of fixing up cars — including those with flathead engines — died nearly a year ago. The family decided to wait until closer to the one-year anniversary of his death to publish the obituary and hold his memorial service.

Who… what the hell… He died a year ago and you’re just now doing something about it? It’s not a new Stones album, you really don’t need 10 months of lead time to market a funeral. Maybe people in Colorado have time to waste but here in the midwest we’ve got a lot videos of anthropomorphic frogs to watch.

Source: HLN

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4.5.12: Automotive Designer Ferdinand A. Porsche – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 9:30 am April 18, 2012

“…and then sometimes it just goes backwards. Just out of nowhere! And you can’t stop it! It’s fucking hilarious when you see that shit!”


Once, during a game of trivia, I overheard someone on a competing team come up with the name ‘Clark Gable Duncan’ while trying to remember Michael Clark Duncan’s name. I decided then and there that ‘Clark Gable Duncan’ would be my alias during any situation that would require me to use an assumed name. But that’s all changed, since I’m now aware of the name Ferdinand A. Porsche. Seriously! Ferdinand A. Porsche! That name just screams highbrow intellectualism, and if there’s one thing a prostitute expects when she hesitantly follows me into a Motel 6, it’s sophistication.

Oh, the real guy is dead now, by the way.

Ferdinand A. Porsche, who designed the original Porsche 911, the snazzy, powerful sports car that became the lasting signature of the German automobile company founded by his grandfather and later run by his father, died on Thursday in Salzburg, Austria. He was 76.

Porsche A.G., whose headquarters are in Zuffenhausen, near Stuttgart, Germany, announced the death in a statement. No cause was given.

Yeah… No big surprise there: Germans aren’t real big fans of publicly explaining mysterious deaths. That’s right, Germany! Almost 70 years later and we’re still making Holocaust jokes! Wakka wakka!


Source: The New York Times

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3.17.12: Ruby Garrett, Owner of Butte, Montana’s Last Brothel – DEAD!

Filed under: Dead —James @ 4:22 am March 29, 2012

Somebody crack a window and let some of that sexy out.


If I knew anything about women my eHarmony profile would probably have significantly fewer references to Truck Nutz, so it should come as no surprise that just about the only thing I have in common with brothel owner Ruby Garrett is a belief that prostitution should be legalized. Well, that, and the fact that we both look irresistible in frilly collars. But now she’s dead, and I fear that young people won’t find sex appealing anymore without the moral guidance of a nonagenarian from Montana. The AP reports:

Ruby Garrett ran the last brothel standing in this mining town’s once-lively red-light district with a reputation for kindness toward her girls, but the grandmotherly figure was also a husband-shooting, tax-evading madam who once said that prostitution should be considered a commodity.

Hang on, let’s skim ahead a little…

People who knew Garrett in her later years remembered a kind person who looked out for the women who worked at the Dumas. Ellen Crain, director of the Butte-Silver Bow Archives, said Garrett was a savvy businesswoman who felt strongly about treating the women well and took pride in keeping the brothel clean and orderly.

Little more…

Les Baldwin, one of those who turned out to bid her farewell, told an Associated Press reporter at the party: “I think it’s a crime that a fine woman like this is sent to prison. I’ve done more things wrong than this woman.”

Uh… little more, I guess…

Garrett pleaded guilty in 1982 to failing to failing to pay $51,670 in federal taxes from 1975 to 1978. She received a six-month sentence and was fined $10,000, which she said she paid with a loan from a friend.

How long is this goddamn obituary, AP? Did you seriously just lay out 650+ words on the owner of a whorehouse? I could die falling out of a plane while battling Hilter’s reanimated corpse and I can guarantee you my own mother wouldn’t have half as much to say at my funeral. Is Henry Darger working with the AP or something? Get an editor.

(And let’s take a moment to appreciate how intelligent that last reference was. Thank you.)

Source: Associated Press

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