Death Becomes You
Is He Dead, Yet? You know, the Pope. Did he drop? Just wondering. I got money on that shit. I don’t think the old dude’s gonna make it this time. I predict he won’t walk out the hospital ever. I give him three or four days. Look at Johnny. Or Marlon Brando. One minute everybody’s saying they were cool. Then they get hit with the sniffles, and a week later, they’re gone. Poof. Just like that, they’re dead. And the Pope should have dropped a decade ago. Dude all old speaking gibberish in a microphone. Nobody understands his ass, but they act like they do cause he’s the Pope. Man, I expect a windfall by the end of the week.
He’ll probably go quietly in the afternoon. Old people either go at night, or in the morning, or in the afternoon, or in the evening, or whenever. Every time is death time for the elderly. I figure everybody has it pretty good until they hit 78. 78 is an arbitrary number, but it seems whenever I watch the news, the person that’s being reported dead is or was usually between the age of 78 and 84, usually in their early 80s. So, I figure that’s probably the norm for everybody when it comes to dropping dead, unless you live in the hood. Then I think it’s between 17 and 24.
I think there’s a lot of death related milestones in a person’s lifetime. The first is when you’re a baby. Everybody thinks you’re gonna drop if you’re a baby. And the chances are that we all could have died like that if we weren’t taken care of in the right way in the grand US of A. Infant fatality rates are pretty high across the world. Most of the world’s babies don’t make it, because babies just can’t cut it, yet. We’re all pussies until we get coughed on and shot up in the right way over a period of time. Then we become super babies, running around, fuckin’ up shit, pretty damn indestructable until we get old. And when I say old, I mean 30, or some shit like that.
If you live in those improvished areas, like I have most of my fuckin life, it don’t take 30 before you start feeling mortal, and the cold hand of death starts to creep up on you. Unfortunately, my teenage years were a war zone. And I wasn’t even a gangbanger. Yet, I saw two close friends die to street violence. One was killed right outside his mother’s house while talking to my cousin. I dodged several bullets as well, including two that barely missed me as I walked from the kitchen to my room. Bullets simply melt a hole through glass, cracking the glass window slightly at impact. My mother still hangs a painting on her wall where one of the bullets went through. I guess I should have felt blessed when I made it into my twenties. But I still spend too much time wondering about my mortality. I still feel like I’m living on borrowed time.
Most other people don’t think about death until they get close to 40, and especially when they hit that mid-life crisis shit. And I can see why because around that age you get the menopause and the heart attack and all that other weird shit. And all that dumb fuckin’ living catches up to the body and mind around that time, all the drinking and smoking, and fornicating, and cheating and lying, and all that other bullshit you didn’t give a fuck about back in the day. All that shit starts playing on your whole reality around then. And the body just starts fuckin’ up and not acting right. Your eyes go and your prostate swells up and shit. And your woman’s cootchie starts drying out and shit. Everything just gets all fucked up. But if you make it past that shit, you usually get to reach the end.
And, of course, the end is 80. You hit 80 and you’re cool, and then you get hit with shit that you used to be able get over with without a problem. You get a cold, or you stub a toe, or you get hit with a bad case of gas. Before, you farted that shit out and went on with your life. You took an aspirin, or you drank some tea, or something like that. But this time, your whole fuckin’ foot goes numb, or your lungs fill with fluid, or your blood gets infected, some weird shit like that. And all of a sudden, three days later, you’re dead. You’re 80 and you’re dead.
Fun Fact: 50 was shot 9 times. Grimm was shot 10. Guess who’s harder?
(What’s that Cool J line? I’m so bad that I suck my own dick, or some over-homo shit like that. I guess no one outside of Cool J wants the distinction of being that bad, that hard, that he forces his own mouth to suck his own dick. I wish Moe Dee, or Canibus, or whoever had fucked up Cool J on the mic just for bullshit like that.)
MF Grimm - Mad_Flows (A Bootleg)
(Link will be up for 2 or 3 days.)
Live At The BBQ - The Missing Link
Biography
Recently