The death of Dr. K

by jhon baker

Well, the right to death with appropriate dignity champion is gone and there is no one to take the mantle, who would? I can champion the right for others and possibly myself to die but there are no initials after my name, there are none that would find comfort in my own method of passing before God sees fit to do it on his/her own.
I’m thinking a .380 or a 9mm – nothing bigger or smaller as that would be messier than necessary or potentially ineffective. Nothing would be worse than dying in a mental institution for the suicidal – being grouped around the ineffective teenage angst of daddy doesn’t get me or mommy wants me to pee sitting only – I would reccomend that you have pity on your loved ones and cover the joint in plastic and call 911 right before you pull the trigger.
Most people would want to go the good doctors way – peacefully and loaded on pain killers.
I just want to go out suddenly but I have a facination with being assassinated and my mother drempt of it and my son dreams of it – I wouldn’t mind going out like that – like an honest poet.
The last poet to be gunned down was WIllie Lee Bell Jr – in front of his Florida night club – Before that Garcia Lorca who is my own hero – just give me a government to stand against… oh, yeah, I have that – only it is better than Franco while being as deceiving as Castro at times.
oops – I may lose all followers for that one… Maybe I ought to admit I voted for him as well, maybe I ought to admit that he has been a disappointment but possibly still better than the given alternative but this is about assisted suicide and the right to end our own lives.

4 Comments to “The death of Dr. K”

  1. That's how Mr. D – that owned this home before Mom went. He had become terribly ill, surgery hadn't worked. So he waited until Margaret (his wife) went to the beauty parlor, set out all his monies (he was a cash hoarder), put towels and such down on the kitchen floor to help avert some of the mess, called 911, and pulled the trigger. Margaret met the ambulance in the drive.

    They are both still here to this day. Margaret takes care of me on bad days. Mr. D makes sure we're not fucking up his house – and I suspect he's Winston's buddy.

    Rambling – sorry. Your post just reminded me of their story. I don't know that I have ever told anyone. They are both such a comfort to me. I guess I was being selfish and not wanting to share them until now.

    I think I had a point, too, initially – seems to have gotten lost in the memories.

  2. When was the last time you gave your beard a trim?

  3. Probably a few weeks ago – it's longer now than in that photo – some people are meant for awesome beards instead of neatly trimmed and unmanly faces of pubic hair styling. I always thought that guys with goatees looked like pussies – literally, if they slightly pucker their lips it looks like there is a snatch in the middle of their face, not wanting to look like that I go for the Ginsberg, Hemingway, Darwin… et cetera –

  4. @Mrs. Pickle – really? The only thing you can say after reading this post is “when was the last time you gave your beard a trim?” – wow – what a fucking bitch.

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