La Mort Seule du Jennifer Strange

Last week I walked into the O-Dog's bedroom, where I found the Fletchmonster sitting atop the computer table near the fish tank. The Fletchmonster has taken a liking to throwing Hot Wheels™ cars into it lately, despite being told numerous times to stay away from it. I noticed, much to my horror, that the lid was pushed aside and the tank's light fixture sat precariously on the edge.

FaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhkkkkkkKK!!!!!!

I grabbed the Fletchmonster quickly and chided him for playing with the tank. Inside, my stomach sank at the horrifying thought that the Fletchmonster might have prematurely met his maker by electrocution. As I fought the urge to retch, I quickly dug in the drawers for tape to affix the tank's lid - thus Fletchproofing it.

One of any parents' worst fears is to have a kid check out before you. It would suck to no end. Sh*t like diseases you just can't help sometimes. What are you going to do if the kid comes out of the chute with some ungodly sickness?

You expend time and energy to instill self-preservation to your offspring, which is why the demise of Jennifer Strange is so... so.... um... (insert opinion here).

Homegirl drank two gallons of some "fine quality H2O." Was it to end world hunger? Was it to protest the war in Iraq? Was it to save a kitten from drowning? Such nobility was absent in this scenario.

Her cause? A free Nintendo Wii game to turn her three kids into vidiots. I'd be willing to bet her kids would rather have Chutes & Ladders or Mousetrap, if it meant having a mother with a pulse.

Morning radio is chock-full of insipid contests. There's the classic "pregnant chick in a bikini" contest, some idiotic scavenger hunt or another way to demean yourself to win some cheap prize in our ongoing quest to get something for nothing.

As the old saying goes, "It's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye."

Ms. Strange lost something a little more than that. Worse yet, she gave her mother the displeasure of finding her lifeless on the bathroom floor.

I'm not going to be insensitive with a joke (such as What do Jennifer Strange and Mr. Limpit have in common?) I truly feel for her loss. I remembered attending my friend Ron's funeral about ten or so years ago. He was a funny talented artist/musician... took a bad drug and turned himself into a near vegetable. He decided to kill himself by setting himself ablaze. At the funeral, I looked over at his mother, whose burnt hands were bandaged from trying to put him out and I began to cry uncontrollably. His mom was crying as well.

As the lawyers start gearing up for the "No, f*ck you, it's your fault" debate, let's pour out a 12oz. bottle of Perrier on the sidewalk to pay props to our dead homey. May Poseidon have mercy on your soul.