The crack research staff here at Dumbass News is a dedicated group of Dumbasses who take their jobs very seriously. This crack research team consists of me. And Mrs. Fearless Leader. Even though we are called a crack research team, we do not research crack. Or cracks for that matter. We are not on crack either. But, we are a crack research team.
Mrs. Fearless Leader was doing some crack research (though not about crack) when she came upon a story that is as Dumbass worthy as any story can be. The story is about a man who died a crack death. that is to say, with a crack in his face. A butt crack. Mrs. Fearless Leader was not researching cracks when she found the story, the crack is, however, an integral part of the tale. (pun intended)
Remember: crack kills.
B.C. (Before Crack)
When most people die, it’s usually because of old age or disease. How-so-ever, some people die in ways that even Stephen King couldn’t come up with. I’m talking weird shit here.
Here’s a quick rundown of some of the strange ways in which the Grim Reaper paid a visit to some most unfortunate folks:
- Two guys were out in the desert doing a little target practice on some Saguaro cactus. One of the guys took aim with his shotgun and BLAM! The dude put a very large hole in the 25 foot tall Saguaro. The hole was large enough that it left the cactus unable to support itself. Then gravity took over and it fell. On the guy. And killed him. Grave. Yard. Dead.
- It was 1277 and Pope John XXI wanted a new laboratory, so he ordered one to be built. Now, you’d think that with a ton of money at his disposal, The Pontiff’s new lab would be made of the best and sturdiest of materials. I guess it wasn’t because it fell on him and soon the white smoke was coming from the Vatican chimney announcing his successor. R.I.P. Il Papa.
- In 1911, Jack Daniel (yes that Jack Daniel) forgot the combination to his safe. He then threw a temper tantrum and ended up kicking the safe. Soon thereafter he was dead from blood poisoning.
Which brings us to Robert Gene White.
Robert died in a very strange but almost envious manner.
You see, Robert was at the Red Parrot Club (NSFW Linkage!) in El Paso, Texas when he bought the farm. Just in case you didn’t/couldn’t check out the link, the Red Parrot is a strip joint. Robert was there looking at perky young hooters when he thought it would be a good idea to get a lap dance. As it turned out it was a lousy idea to get a lap dance.
This is where the crack comes in to play.
Smack dab in the middle of this intimate encounter with a stripper’s butt Robert Gene White met his Maker. Keeled over right on the spot. Dead as a door nail. It appears that a massive coronary was the culprit. That must have been some ass on that stripper.
As a Former Professional Drinker and Friend to Strippers, I can honestly tell you that I have never heard of a guy having a fatal heart attack during a lap dance. I can tell you of times where fatal shootings and stabbings took place during a lap dance, but a heart attack? Not so much.
As is the case with stuff like this, I have a question or two.
- Is the stripper with the great ass guilty of a crime? Involuntary manslaughter caused by too much ass to the face, perhaps? Suffocation by hooters?
- In instances like this, should strippers be required to know CPR or is giving a horny old bastard Vapor Lock just a hazard of the job?
- Did she get to keep her tip?
According to the story, several members of the club’s staff tried to revive Robert but it was too late. He was pronounced dead at the scene.
With a big smile on his face.
Moral of the story?
Crack kills. And what a way to go.